He found himself wondering what it was that caused this
exhibition of temper. A letter? Of course,--a letter. A letter that
contained something she resented, something that infuriated her.
A personal matter, not a business one. She would not have treated
a business matter in such a way. He knew her too well for that. The
leaping flames gave no hint of what they had destroyed. Was it an
anonymous letter? Had it anything to do with him?
His eye fell upon several envelopes on the library table. After a
moment's hesitation and a quick glance toward the door, he strode
over to inspect them. They were all unopened. Two were postmarked
Chicago, one New York; on the others the postmarks were indistinct.
The handwriting was feminine on most of them. A narrow, folded slip
of paper lay a little detached from the letters. He picked it up
and quickly opened it. It proved to be a check on a Philadelphia
bank. A glance sufficed to show that it was for two hundred and
fifty dollars, payable to the order of Alix Crown, and signed "D.
W. Strong."
The door upstairs was opened and closed. Replacing the bit of
paper on the table, he resumed his position before the fire. Quite
a different Alix entered the room a few seconds later. She was
smiling, her eyes were soft and tranquil. All traces of the passing
tempest were gone.
"Sit down,--draw this big chair up to the fire,--do.
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