"You may go." The door closed.

Yes, it was from HER--it was the same texture of paper, there was the same rare, haunting fragrance clinging to it.
He tore the envelope open, and extracted a folded sheet of paper.

What was it this time?
To call the partnership off again until the present furor should have subsided once more--or the skilfully sketched outline of a new adventure?
Which?
He glanced at the few lines written on the sheet, and lunged forward from his chair to his feet.

It was neither one nor the other.

It was-- Jimmie Dale's face was set, and an angry red surge swept his cheeks.