“Yes,” he said.

“Where is he?”

“He gave an address at York, though he wasn’t there when he wrote.  I sent your letter on there yesterday.”

“Oh I did he give any account of himself?”

Jack looked at her.

“Well, he did.  I’ve come about that.  It’s not very pleasant.”

“Is he ill?” asked Jenny sharply.

“Oh, no; not at all; at least, he didn’t say so.”

“What’s the matter, then?”

Jack fumbled in his breast-pocket and drew out a letter, which he held a moment before unfolding.

“I think you’d better read what he says, Miss Launton.  It isn’t pleasant, but it’s all over now.  I thought I’d better tell you that first.”

She held out her hand without speaking.

Jack gave it her, and addressed himself carefully to his cigarette.  He didn’t like this kind of thing at all, he wished Frank wouldn’t give him unpleasant commissions.  But, of course, it had to be done.  He looked out at the lawn and the sleepy house, but was aware of nothing except the girl beside him in her white dress and the letter in her hands.  When she had finished it, she turned back and read it again.  Then she remained perfectly still, with the letter held on her knee.

“Poor, dear old boy!” she said suddenly and quietly.

An enormous wave of relief rolled up and enveloped Jack.  He had been exceedingly uncomfortable this morning, ever since the letter had come.  His first impulse had been to ride over instantly after breakfast; then he had postponed it till lunch; then he had eaten some cold beef about half-past twelve and come straight away.  He told himself he must give her plenty of time to write by the late Sunday night post.

He had not exactly distrusted Jenny; Frank’s confidence was too overwhelming and too infectious.  But he had reflected that it was not a wholly pleasant errand to have to inform a girl that her lover had been in prison for a fortnight.  But the tone in which she had just said those four words was so serene and so compassionate that he was completely reassured.  This really was a fine creature, he said to himself.

“I’m extraordinarily glad you take it like that,” he said.

Jenny looked at him out of her clear, direct eyes.

“You didn’t suppose I should abuse him, did you?...  How exactly like Frank!  I suppose he did it to save some blackguard or other.”

“I expect that was it,” said Jack.

“Poor, dear old boy!” she said again.

There was a moment’s silence.  Then Jack began again: 

“You see, I’ve got to go and tell Lord Talgarth.  Miss Launton, I wish you’d come with me.  Then we can both write by to-night’s post.”

Jenny said nothing for an instant.  Then: 

“I suppose that would be best,” she said.  “Shall we go up pretty soon?  I expect we shall find him in the garden.”

Jack winced a little.  Jenny smiled at him openly.