She flicked the snapshot aside. There was conscientious carelessness in the flick.
Then she took out the leather-cased ink-bottle from her dressing-bag, and some paper.
She wrote: "My dear Hugo——"
Then she stopped and thought—"Maudie and Hilary Smith will be pleased with me. So will the cousins, the opulent cousins who've always been kind about clothes they've finished wearing, and invitations to parties where they want another girl to brighten things up. You can give some bright parties for them now, Leslie! Good Reason Number Ninety-nine for saying 'Yes.'"
She took up her pen.
"Nothing," she murmured, "Nothing will ever kill the idea that the girl who isn't married is the girl who hasn't been asked. Nothing will ever spoil the satisfaction of that girl when showing that she has!"
She wrote down the date, which she had forgotten.
"Poor Monty would be so much more decorative for 'show' purposes. But I explained quite frankly to Hugo that it would be his money I'd want!"
She wrote, "After thinking it well over——"
Then again she meditated.