"Mr. Vigil," said Mrs. Shortman at last, "Mr. Vigil, do you think---"
Gregory raised his face; it was flushed to the roots of his hair.
"Read that, Mrs. Shortman."
Handing her a pale grey letter stamped with an eagle and the motto
'Strenuus aureaque penna' he rose and paced the room. And as with his
long, light stride he was passing to and fro, the woman at the bureau
conned steadily the writing, the girl at the typewriter sat motionless
with a red and jealous face.
Mrs. Shortman folded the letter, placed it on the top of the bureau, and
said without raising her eyes--
"Of course, it is very sad for the poor little girl; but surely, Mr.
Vigil, it must always be, so as to check, to check----"
Gregory stopped, and his shining eyes disconcerted her; they seemed to
her unpractical. Sharply lifting her voice, she went on:
"If there were no disgrace, there would be no way of stopping it. I know
the country better than you do, Mr. Vigil."
Gregory put his hands to his ears.
"We must find a place for her at once."
The window was fully open, so that he could not open it any more, and he
stood there as though looking for that place in the sky. And the sky he
looked at was very blue, and large white birds of cloud were flying over
it.
He turned from the window, and opened another letter.
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