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."