“Fate has been merciful to let you two meet. Don’t let that be spoiled! To-morrow——”
I held her hand with that little locket in it clutched for a minute against my breast.
“It shall be different to-morrow,” I whispered before she went, keeping my meaning to myself. It will, of course, be “different” enough!
Half-past seven. There was just time, then, to send my wire.
I crept out silently over the sand-hills and away to the tiny post office where, thank goodness, the postmistress’s literal English won’t allow her to read much between the lines of this.
“To Harradine, Marconi Mansions, Battersea, London.
“Please send off immediately to Trant, care Waters, Porth Cariad, Anglesey, telegram as follows: (Begins.) ‘Please return at once; am ill, must see you, Cicely.’ (Ends.)—From Tots.”
If she only has the sense to answer that correctly, and at once!