t her a little necklet under cover to
Mrs Ffolliot, asking that it might be put with Mary's other presents on
her plate that morning. And she had written to thank him for it, but
he did not answer the letter. He had always been by way of writing to
her from time to time; letters, generally embellished with comic
sketches and full of chaff and nonsense, which were shared by the
family. Lately he had not felt in the mood to write such letters. He
wanted to see her with an unceasing ache of longing intense and
persistent; and if he wrote he wanted to write, not a love
letter--Reggie did not fancy he'd be much of a hand at love
letters--but something intimate and revealing that would certainly be
unsuitable for "family reading."

Then he got two letters from Redmarley that seemed to him to need an
answer.

These were the letters:--

REDMARLEY,
_Tuesday._

DEAR REGGIE,--We were all very excited to see it in the _Gazette_ this
morning, though of course we knew it was coming. The children took the
_Times_ down to Willets at tea-time, and Fusby was at special pains to
ask mother after lunch if there was any chance of Captain Peel coming
down soon. Is there? You won't find me here unless it's very soon,
for I'm actually to be allowed to stay with grannie for quite a long
time. After swearing that I should only go up for the drawing-room,
and that it was nonsense to talk of my going out at all till mother
could take me, the _pater_ has suddenly veered round, and I am to go up
to Woolwich on May-Day, and what's more, he is taking me up himself.
At first I thought I was to go with Grantly when he went back to the
Shop, but that wouldn't do seemingly, Grantly wasn't enough chaperon,
so father's coming just for one night.

Last night we had a dinner-party and the Liberal member took me in. He
is such an odd little man. Very, very good, I should think; very
kind--not hard-hearted and ruthless like some people who write cruel
stories about war--he is a nonconformist of sorts and doesn't do any of
the usual things, so it's a little difficult to talk to him, but mother
managed it--to make him talk, I mean. I heard him murmuring away like
anything while we were playing bridge. She likes him too. He has an
odd way of looking at you as if you were a picture and not a person.
Don't you think it's fun to be going to town on May-Day and to have
proper dinner every night whether there are people or not. I hope
there wi