“I am pretty keen on getting down myself, I can tell you. Town, in this heat, is the abomination of desolation; and smelly. So is the office. You’ve never been here in July. It’s awful. I’ll let you know later when I shall be coming; time of train, etc. “You were missed at The Lawn last night. I took a man who lives near to share my solitary meal there, and to have a game of billiards afterwards. He wanted me to try over ‘Ford of Kabul River’ for him; I can’t accompany myself, though, and he made an awful hash of it. I wished we’d dined in town and gone to a show. “When I go out to lunch I shall call at Fuller’s and order them to send you on—for the look of the thing—a box of chocolates. I hope they have one with a picture of forget-me-nots or something of the sort on the lid,” (Yes; they had. White satin, with the sprays of flowers embroidered in pale blue silk.) “as Theo notices everything. Don’t let her bag all the sweets, though.” (Here the writing gets more scrawly and hurried.) “Have just got in from lunch, which I had with my uncle. He was full of talk; you can imagine it!” (I can.) “I also saw two other men whom I’d got to meet, and as a result of this, I think I’ve managed to get through the business that was keeping me. So I shall be down at the end of the week after all; cheers for some fresh air and a dip! Please be very glad to see me, will you? as Theo—but I put that before. “Just before I went out to lunch a very rum thing happened: at least, I thought it was rum until I found out what it was. I was opening the door of my room when I heard, in the passage, _your voice_, Nancy! Yes, your voice, with that little dare-devil tone you put on sometimes, saying these extraordinary words: ‘_I think it’s to the Savoy that I’m going out with Mr. Waters to-day_!’ “I couldn’t think what on earth was the meaning of it, with you miles away in Anglesey.” (But already I smiled, seeing what was coming!) “I wondered what could have brought you back, or if I’d got an hallucination—can you hear hallucinations?—and I bolted out into the passage, nearly knocking over two of the typists who were coming down it. “Miss Smith (that’s the one whose affections are otherwise engaged, isn’t it?) fled like a hare; but that tall, dark Miss Robinson stood her ground, only moving aside a little for me to pass. I stopped and asked her straight out, ‘Was it you who were speaking a moment ago?’ “She said ‘Yes’—all meekness at once. ‘Mimicking hussy’ I thought—for it really had been exactly the way I’ve heard you speak, you know, sometimes. It was all I could do to keep from laughing outright, but I just said ‘Well, I am writing to Miss Trant to-day; can I give her any message from you?’