Yes, it was a telegram. Such
despatches rarely came to this house; Yule tore the envelope,
read its contents, and stood with gaze fixed upon the slip of
paper until the servant inquired if there was any reply for the
boy to take with him.
'No reply.'
He slowly crumpled the envelope, and stepped aside to throw it
into the paper-basket. The telegram he laid on his desk. Marian
stood all the time with bent head; he now looked at her with an
expression of meditative displeasure.
'I don't know that there's much good in resuming our
conversation,' he said, in quite a changed tone, as if something
of more importance had taken possession of his thoughts and had
made him almost indifferent to the past dispute. 'But of course I
am quite willing to hear anything you would still like to say.
Marian had lost her vehemence. She was absent and melancholy.
'I can only ask you,' she replied, 'to try and make life less of
a burden to us.'
'I shall have to leave town to-morrow for a few days; no doubt it
will be some satisfaction to you to hear that.'
Marian's eyes turned involuntarily towards the telegram.
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