This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. ” The conversation hung. He was there concealed, waiting her return. Then she sang. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. . Only she hadn’t.
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