"Mr. Dalmain," she said; "there is a postscript to this letter. It
says: 'Write to The Palace Hotel, Aberdeen.'"
Garth sprang up, his whole face and figure alive with excitement.
"In Aberdeen?" he cried. "Jane, in Aberdeen! Oh, my God! If she gets
this paper to-morrow morning, she may be here any time in the day.
Jane! Jane! Dear little Rosemary, do you hear? Jane will come to-
morrow! Didn't I tell you something was going to happen? You and
Simpson were too British to understand; but Margery knew; and the
woods told us it was Joy coming through Pain. Could that be posted
at once, Miss Gray?"
The May-Day mood was upon him again. His face shone. His figure was
electric with expectation. Nurse Rosemary sat at the table watching
him; her chin in her hands. A tender smile dawned on her lips, out
of keeping with her supposed face and figure; so full was it of the
glorious expectation of a mature and perfect love.
"I will go to the post-office myself, Mr. Dalmain," she said.
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