He fingered the letter.
"I must go and post a letter; then I'll come back, if I may. Where did I put that hat of mine?"
As she turned to pick up the hat from the table, he dropped the letter—the heart's blood written letter—on the floor behind him.
"I'll be back in a minute or two," he said, and went out to walk up and down the far end of Chenies Street and to picture her—alone with his letter.
She saw it at the instant when the latch of her flat clicked behind him. She picked it up, and mechanically turned it over to look at the address.
He, in the street outside, knew just how she would do it. Then she saw that the letter was unfastened.
How often had Tom said that there were to be no secrets between them! This was his letter. But it might hold Dick's secrets. But then, if she knew Dick's secrets she might be able to help him. He was in trouble—anyone could see that—awful trouble. She turned the letter over and over in her hands.
