"I don't feel quite strong enough yet. When I've had breakfast. I should like to paint you as you're looking now, Val. I think I'll do a sketch of you in the rose garden, all in black and white, like a Beardsley, with the balustrades and steps and things behind you. Will you sit to me?" "That's all very well. But why don't you read your letter?" "There's sure to be nothing in it." "How can you tell till you've opened it?" "I know. I always feel what's in a letter without opening it. Don't you? I absorb the essence, as it were, through the covers of the envelope, as somebody or other--Macaulay, I think--used to absorb all the important things through the covers of a book. Or wasn't it Macaulay? Anyhow, it doesn't matter. It was some tiresome person whom one oughtn't to talk about on a morning like this." Harry evidently was not quite at his ease. "But why not read it?" She spoke playfully. "How persistent women are, just like children. To tease you I just shan't." "Oh, Harry!" "I shan't read it now at all," he went on. "I can answer it without reading it." "It's only that I should like to know how the Walmers are enjoying themselves on _Flying Fish_. Lady Walmer was a little afraid they mightn't like it." Here Romer came up to the window and called out-- "I say, Val, come here a minute. I want to ask you something." "Here I am, dear," and she vanished into the garden. The second she had gone Harry opened the letter very carefully, and read-- "Dearest Harry, "You are a rotter never to write. I'm having _such_ a time. Weather priceless, but very sick at not hearing from you. Algie Thynne is here. Do you know him? He's rather a nut. Wish you were here. No more to-day. Bye-bye, old son. "Your loving "ALEC." "P.S.--Do write. The moonlight nights are simply topping. Just like a picture. I think you'd like it; otherwise everything is beastly. "I love you more than ever. "A." He put the letter back in the untorn envelope and carefully fastened it up again. He then placed it on the mantelpiece, and having finished his breakfast, lit a cigarette. He looked thoughtful. "Algie Thynne, indeed!" he said to himself. "How pathetic, trying to make me jealous! Well, it's a pretty letter, and what's more, it must be answered." Val came back. "Romer wants the lawn mown," she said. "He's perfectly mad on the subject of mowing the lawn. He seems to think it ought to be shaved every day. It's the only thing he knows about the country. Well, have you read your letter?" "There it is," said Harry. "You can read it if you like." He watched her carefully as she took it from the mantelpiece. "I don't want to read it," she said, holding it. "Nor do I," said Harry. "Harry, tell me honestly, wouldn't you really mind if I tore it into little bits and put it in the waste-paper basket--just as it is?"