My dearest Mother,
No words can express how sorry I am that my letter should have caused you and father so much trouble. My suspicions however have in no way diminished. James is as bad as ever. He has a horrible sneaking way of coming upstairs and he dreams too and shouts out "oh why did I do it; murder! robbery." So tonight I shall tell him that I have found him out and could not possibly marry him. Of course he will have nothing to do with me and I shall be penniless, but as you will have no more to say to me, I suppose I am welcome to fall back upon the kindness of my dearly beloved friend Helen Winston. Now dear Mother, as this is the last letter I shall ever write you, I beg that you will give my very best love to dear Father and all the rest, Remember me very kindly to all my friends especially Lord Beaufort. Begging heartily for your forgiveness (which I suppose you will never grant me)
I remain, your devoted daughter
Gladys.
Having finished this epistle Gladys stamped and sealed it and handing it to Helen said: "You will post this on your way home wont you?"
"Oh yes" said Helen and she placed the envelope in her pocket.
"Now the next best thing to be done is, to go and see if lunch is ready exclaimed Gladys and leading the way, the two girls crossed the passage and entered a charming little drawing room. A fire burnt brightly in the grate and a table was spread in the middle of the room, on which a hot pheasant was waiting to be carved.
"Is this a drawing room or a dining room" enquired Helen, looking at the pretty pictures, the sofa and various drawing room articles.
"Both" replied Gladys "you see after meals, the flaps of this table are let down, an Indian silk cloth put upon it, and it is a sweet little table for the centre of a drawingroom,
"How dodgy" cried Helen in delight. Lunch was soon over and the girls repaired to Gladys's bedroom, which was brighter and sunnier than the drawing-room. Taking their seats by the window, they both sank into silence.
Gladys was the first to break it.