The communication to his uncle was equally brief. Mr. Traill read it to him. It ran:
"Dear Mr. Traill--I cannot marry you. Please forgive me. I did not realize, when you honored me with your proposal, that an insuperable obstacle existed. That is all--a lame explanation--but complete so far as it goes. A woman who has wrecked her life finds it hard to choose her words.
They discussed these curt notes during breakfast.
"I do not like their tone," said Mr. Traill, gravely. "They impress me as the hurried resolutions of a woman driven to extremities. Were it not for her request about the children, I should think what _you_ thought last night, Charlie, when that policeman turned up."
"I must have telephoned my ideas to you mighty quick," was the retort.
"My dear boy, even at this moment we don't know what she intended to do. Why did she go out? What is the nature of her sudden illness? How comes it that she is at Brand's house?"
"I may be mistaken, but I think we will be given answers to all your questions in due time. Nothing really serious can be amiss, or we should have heard of it from Brand himself. Now, will you remain on guard here whilst I go out with Elsie and Mamie? The one thing that matters in their little lives this morning is that I shall hurry up and go doll-hunting with them."
"I will hold the fort until you return. You will not be long?"
"Perhaps half an hour. Whilst I am out I will make some inquiries as to the condition of our other friends of the _Chinook_."
"By the way, many of them must be destitute. It is my desire, Charlie, to pay the expenses of any such to their destination, and equip them properly for the journey."
"You are a first-rater, uncle, but it'll make your arm tired if you O.K. the bill all the time. Now here's a fair offer. Let me go halves."
"Be off, you rascal. You are keeping two ladies waiting."
With seeming anxiety to atone for the excesses of the week, the weather that morning justified the claim of Cornwall to be the summer land of England. The sun shone from a blue sky flecked with white clouds. The waters of Mount's Bay sparkled and danced in miniature wavelets. The air was so mild, the temperature so equable, that it was hard to credit sea and wind with the havoc of the preceding days.