He brushed all that away impatiently, pettishly. The intense and
terrible longing for her arrival persisted. It was now twenty-five to
three. His father would be down soon from his after-dinner nap.
Suddenly the door opened, and he saw the Orgreaves' servant, with a
cloak over her white apron, and hands red with cold. And also he saw
disaster like a ghostly figure following her. His heart sickeningly
sank. Martha smiled and gave him a note, which he smilingly accepted.
"Miss Lessways asked me to come down with this," she said
confidentially. She was a little breathless, and she had absolutely the
manner of a singing chambermaid in light opera. He opened the note,
which said: "Dear Mr Clayhanger, so sorry I can't come to-day.--Yours,
H.L." Nothing else. It was scrawled. "It's all right, thanks," he
said, with an even brighter smile to the messenger, who nodded and
departed.
It all occurred in an instant.
------------------------------------------------------------------------