"Mrs. Dale," said Ridgett, speaking to her from the bottom of the
stairs, "would you be disposed for a little stroll before tea?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Ridgett."
"Have pity on a lonely stranger, and change your mind," said Mr.
Ridgett, smiling up at her.
"No, really not--but thank you for offering it."
"You know, it isn't right the way you shut yourself up this lovely
weather."
"I--I have not been feeling quite myself, Mr. Ridgett."
"No, so your maid told me. But, still, I am afraid it's the way to
make yourself worse, never going out of doors;" and Mr. Ridgett
laughed amiably. "I won't press you--that is, I won't press you to
honor me with your company; but I do respectfully press my advice to
get out a bit. You know I feel a responsibility to look after you in
the absence of your lord and master."
"Thank you."
"By the way, I had a note from him this morning."
"From Mr. Dale?"
"Yes."
"Oh, had you? Where--" Mavis gripped the baluster rail so tightly that
the slender wooden uprights rattled. She had nearly asked a question
which would have betrayed the fact that she did not know her husband's
address. "Did he write from his lodgings?"
"No, he wrote from a public library.
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