'Frank has written to you?'
'Why, yes; didn't you know? He said there was a clearing-machine going cheap at Prentice. I've always thought I could make money down our way if I had one. They say you can clear from three to four acres a day with one. Frank thought it was worth my while to come and have a look at it and he said he guessed you'd be glad to see me.'
'How funny of him not to say anything to me about it,' said Nora, frowning once more.
'I suppose he wanted to surprise you. And now for yourself; how do you like being a married woman?'
'Oh, all right. But you haven't answered half my questions yet. Why has Reggie Hornby come with you?'
'Do you realize I've not seen you since before you were married?'
'That's so; you haven't, have you?'
'I've been a bit anxious about you. That's why, when Frank wrote about the clearing-machine, I didn't stop to think about it, but just came.'
'It was awfully nice of you. But why has Reggie Hornby come?'
'Oh, he's going back to England.'
'Is he?'
'Yes, he got them to send his passage money at last. His ship doesn't sail till next week, and he said he might just as well stop over here and say good-by to you.'
'How has he been getting on?'
'How do you expect? He looks upon work as something that only damned fools do. Where's Frank?'
'Oh, he's out with Sid Sharp. Sid's our neighbor. He has the farm you passed on your way here.'
'Getting on all right with him, Nora?'
'Why, of course,' said Nora with just a suggestion of irritation in her voice.
'What's that boy doing all this time?' she asked, going over to the window and looking out. 'He
But Marsh was not a man whom it was easy to side-track.
'It's a great change for you, this, after the sort of life you've been used to.'
'I was rather hoping you'd have some letters for me,' said Nora from the window. 'I haven't had a letter for a long time.'
As a matter of fact she had no reason to expect any, not having answered Miss Pringle's last and having practically no other correspondent. But the speech was a happy one, in that it created the desired diversion.
'There now!' said her brother with an air of comical consternation. 'I've got a head like a sieve. Two came by the last mail. I didn't forward them, because I was coming myself.'
'You don't mean to tell me you've forgotten them!'
'No; here they are.'
Nora took them with a show of eagerness. 'They don't look very exciting,' she said, glancing at them. 'One's from Agnes Pringle, the lady's companion that I used to know at Tunbridge Wells, you remember. And the other's from Mr. Wynne.'
'Who's he?'
'Oh, he was Miss Wickham's solicitor. He wrote to me once before to say he hoped I was getting on all right. I don't think I want to hear from people in England any more,' she said in a low voice, more to herself than to him, tossing the letters on the table.
'My dear, why do you say that?'
'It's no good thinking of the past, is it?'
'Aren't you going to read your letters?'
