DEAR AUNT VERENA,—I am broken-hearted and turn first to you for sympathy as you are always so kind and all my pals are out of town. The fact is, Trixie and I have parted for ever. I can’t explain how it happened, because my brain is all in a whirl about it, and really I don’t know, but somehow I offended her and it is all off. My life is a blank and all the plans I had made are mockeries. I had even begun to look in furniture-shop windows. And then it all went wrong, and when I got to the Jazzle Ball a little bit late, which I couldn’t help, I found that she had given every dance away to other men, one of whom is an officer bounder whom I had most carefully warned her against: a regular T.G. (Temporary Gentleman) of the worst type. I wish you were better so that I might come and talk to you about it all. I could tell you in words so much more than I can write, especially with the mouldy pens at this Club. The only satisfactory part is that I had not bought the engagement ring, not having enough money for it. I don’t mean that I should regret the money but that I should hate to receive the blighted thing back. As it is I had not given her anything but chocolates, and of course we exchanged cigarette cases: but I don’t intend to use hers any more. I could not enjoy a cigarette from a case so fraught with memories. If I were a little more independent I should try to forget my sorrows in travel, but I can’t. And dancing has ceased to interest me. In fact, I believe it is this dancing that is very largely the matter with England. If we danced less and worked more I am sure we should be “winning the Peace” more thoroughly. If you have any ideas for me of a strenuous kind I should like to hear of them, for I am all for toil now. I have frittered my time away too long.—Your affectionate nephew, ROY _P.S._—If you are writing to Hazel or any one at home please don’t mention my tragedy as they did not know I was engaged. LII BRYAN FIELD TO SIR SMITHFIELD MARK DEAR SIR SMITHFIELD,—You have always been so kind in giving me advice, and now and then a hand, that I am following the natural course of gratitude and coming to trouble you again. The hospital in France is just closing and I shall be on the loose. I shall look out for a practice, but, meanwhile, I wondered if any rural friend of your own might be in need of a locum: I say rural because the desire to be in old England again is very strong, after so many months of this foreign land, which, however beautiful in effects of light and space, never quite catches the right country feeling. I wonder if you know any one in, say, Herefordshire, who wants a change? Of course a Bart’s man.—I am, yours sincerely, BRYAN FIELD LIII JOSEY RABY TO VINCENT FRANK