"And to
think my girls have forgotten her name--what a pity! But they must
remember it. I'll set their wits at work. Your sister! Why, this is
like a story."
"It is better than that; it means life and hope to me. Oh, if I am
deceiving myself!" sighed the lady. "That is what has made me hesitate
about speaking to you--I was so afraid it was only my imagination, and I
could not bear to think of disappointment. But the more I study the
writing the surer I am. Every time I look at that envelope I feel surer
and safer! You don't know how it braces me to bear with Duncan's
strangeness."
"Why 'strangeness'? I thought we had agreed that his letters have simply
been lost, and, if he is in India, he will be as glad to see you as you
him, didn't we?"
"Oh, if I could be certain of that!"
"I shouldn't allow myself to think anything else."
"It is so easy to talk when it is not our own trouble!"
The captain smiled patiently.
"Did you keep that envelope?"
"Yes. Faith didn't seem to notice."
"That is right. And I'll think it over. We can mail a letter at
Ismailia, but no answer could reach you until we get to Bombay. I
suppose we might wire, but we only stop, there--dear me! I keep
forgetting we have no address except Debby's, and she would go all to
pieces over a telegram. Do you know whether Clara's still single?"
"No, I don't."
"Sort of a wild-goose chase, at the best! It will have to be a letter, I
guess.
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