Presently Jeff stood back, holding her at arm's length, while his hungry eyes devoured every feature of the face that had taught him so much of the real meaning of life. "Splendid--just splendid!" he exclaimed. "My--gown?" The smile was enticing. The man laughed out of the buoyancy of his heart. "No--you!" he cried, leaning forward for the embrace she had invited. A moment later he stood back again, and Elvine's eyes fell upon the mail lying upon the table. "Some for me?" she inquired, moving toward it. Jeff nodded. Then his smile died out. His gaze had fallen upon his own open letter. It was lying upon the table near the pile set aside for his wife, just where he had flung it down at the moment of her entrance. "Quite a few," he said. The unsmiling nature of his response had caught Elvine's attention. But she picked up her letters and glanced hastily through them. A moment later her eyes came back to his face. "Aren't you going to finish yours?" she inquired. She was seeking the meaning of that suddenly banished smile. It was almost with eagerness that the man caught at the opportunity. "It's from Bud, and--I guess it's important. I've only two or three pages more." He picked the letter up and sorted the sheets into order. Elvine watched him. She wanted to ask a dozen questions. But she put none of them. "He's your partner," was all she said. "Yep," he nodded, with his eyes on the pages. Then Elvine voiced something of her real feelings of the moment. "I just hate mail," she said, with what seemed unnecessary force, as she began to draw on her gloves. "It always worries me to death. I think it scares me. Makes me think of death, or disaster, or--or bills and things." She laughed. "Maybe it's my pessimistic nature makes me feel that way. When things are all sunshiny and fine, why, it kind of feels to me there are clouds around. Nasty, mean, hateful shadows lurking, full of----" "Hell for some one, eh?" There was a wry twist to the man's lips as he smiled his reply. "Guess that's how it is with mine," he went on. "I'll just read these pages, and then we'll get going. Eh?" The woman's watchful eye smiled assent and she continued to draw her gloves on. But her observation of him seemed to gather intensity the moment he became absorbed in the clumsy, unskilled handwriting. The last vestige of his smile had gone. His fair brows had knitted in a troubled frown. He seemed to read eagerly but intently, absorbed to an unusual degree. She realized the seriousness of that letter. And for some curious reason alarm supervened. He had spoken of it easily, but his manner of reading denied his spoken word.