"DEAR Miss JONES,—Hoping this finds you as it leaves me in the pink, thank God. I take up my pen to write you these few lines dear Miss Jones, it gives me much pleasure to write to you as promised after your brother's funeral which I hope you will find time to write me a few lines as I am a very lonely sailor. Being an norfun and no incumbrances whatsoever dear Miss Jones I now draw to a close with best respects and plese write soon.
"from your sincere friend,
"JOE WALSH, able seaman.
"P.S.—I enclose postle order for £1 so plese don't be offended, excuse me, hoping you will buy some little present for yourself."
The Lieutenant-Commander restored the document to its envelope. "Thank God I was taught young to accept responsibility," he said. He picked up the censor stamp, pressed it fervently on the envelope, and sent the letter on its way.
VIII
THE EPITAPH
(1919)
It stood in the darkest corner of a West End antique furniture dealer's shop.
"That?" The proprietor echoed my inquiry.
"Yes, it's one of the desks out of the old Britannia. Came out of the studies where the cadets were given instruction on board. I acquired it when the ship was broken up." He eyed me thoughtfully through his spectacles, and passed three fingers round thin, clean-shaven lips. "Valueless intrinsically, of course. But it struck me it might have sentimental associations for some: possibly historic associations in years to come. Generations of cadets have carved and scratched their names all over it. This was one of the few remaining. Nearly all the others had been broken up for firewood—it's only deal."