Boots brought it around.

Leave it on the library table, dear, when you go down." Eileen took the letter and turned away.

A few moments later as she laid it on the library table, her eyes involuntarily noted the superscription written in the long, angular, fashionable writing of a woman.
And slowly the inevitable question took shape within her.
How long she stood there she did not know, but the points of her gloved fingers were still resting on the table and her gaze was still concentrated on the envelope when she felt Selwyn's presence in the room, near, close; and looked up into his steady eyes.

And knew he loved her.
And suddenly she broke down--for with his deep gaze in hers the overwrought spectre had fled!--broke down, no longer doubting, bowing her head in her slim gloved hands, thrilled to the soul with the certitude of their unhappiness eternal, and the dreadful pleasure of her share.
"What is it ?" he made out to say, managing also to keep his hands off her where she sat, bowed and quivering by the table.
"N-nothing.

A--a little crisis--over now--nearly over.
It was that letter--other women writing you.