"Allow me to make
myself useful," the polite doctor suggested. He produced a stamp, and
fixed it himself on the envelope. When he had proceeded on his way
downstairs, Fanny's distrust of him insisted on expressing itself. "He
wanted to find out what person you have written to," she said. "Let me
make your letter safe in the post." In five minutes more it was in the
box at the office.
While these trifling events were in course of progress, Mr. Vimpany had
gone into the garden to read the second of the two letters, delivered
that morning, addressed to himself. On her return from the post-office,
Fanny had opportunities of observing him while she was in the
greenhouse, trying to revive the perishing flowers--neglected in the
past days of domestic trouble.
Noticing her, after he had read his letter over for the second time,
Mr. Vimpany sent the maid into the cottage to say that he wished to
speak with her master. Lord Harry joined him in the garden--looked at
the letter--and, handing it back, turned away. The doctor followed him,
and said something which seemed to be received with objection. Mr.
Vimpany persisted nevertheless, and apparently carried his point. The
two gentlemen consulted the railway time-table, and hurried away
together, to catch the train to Paris.
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