'Get it?'—he looked aghast. 'When?'
'Probably by to-morrow.'
' Then it isn't here?'—his face was pitiful.
She caught only the uncovered gleams that peeped out of the blackness, and she wondered what complication, even among the most supposable, the very worst, could be bad enough to account for the degree of his terror. There were twists and turns, there were places where the screw drew blood, that she couldn't guess. She was more and more glad she didn't want to. 'It has been sent on.'
'But how do you know if you don't look?'
She gave him a smile that was meant to be, in the absolute irony of its propriety, quite divine. 'It was August 23rd, and we have nothing later here than August 27th.'
Something leaped into his face. '27th—23rd? Then you're sure? You know?'
She felt she scarce knew what—as if she might soon be pounced upon for some lurid connection with a scandal. It was the queerest of all sensations, for she had heard, she had read, of these things, and the wealth of her intimacy with
