Frank, who watched him nervously, with all his senses sharpened, guessed
what had caused the change and grew more nervous and morbid on the
subject of Gretchen than ever. At first his brother, who was greatly
averse to going out, had asked him to post his letters; business letters
they seemed to be, for they were addressed to business firms in New
York, London, and Paris, with all of which Arthur had relations. But one
morning when Frank went as usual to his brother's room asking if there
was any mail to be taken to the office, Arthur, who was just finishing a
letter, replied:
'No, thank you, I will post this myself. I have been writing to
Gretchen.'
'Yes, to Gretchen?' Frank said, quickly, as he advanced nearer to the
writing desk, hoping to see the address on the envelope.
But Arthur must have suspected his motive, for he at once turned over
the envelope and kept his hand upon it, while Frank said to him:
'Is she in London now?'
'No; she was never in London,' was the curt reply, and then, turning
suddenly, Arthur faced his brother and said: 'Why are you so curious
about Gretchen? It is enough for you to know that the is the sweetest,
truest little girl that ever lived. When she comes I shall tell you
everything, but not before.
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