Always your affectionate nephew,
Toby.
P.S.—There is another road by Bidache, but I should not come by that because it is longer and not so easy to follow.
“You see,” explained Cicely, “the two outstanding characteristics of Mrs. Medallion are, first of all, her contrariness, and, secondly, her conviction that all men are fools. Well, I’ve given her a glorious opportunity of indulging the former, and I’ve supported the latter by a piece of documentary evidence of which she will talk for years. In fact, I should think she’d have it framed. After this, she’d rather die than come to Biarritz. The bare idea of your waiting for hours at the entrance to the hotel, not daring to go away in case she arrives, will give her a better appetite for lunch than any Hula Hula that ever was shaken.”
Captain Rage lifted his eyes to heaven.
“Trust a woman,” he said, “to put it across a woman. Of course, I take off my hat. It’s a work of art. That postscript alone. . . .”
He ripped the sheet from the pad, folded it very carefully, and, after staring upon it, took out a cigarette-case and bestowed the paper inside.
“Well, that’s that,” said Cicely, getting upon her feet.
“Here,” said Toby. “You’re—you’re not thinkin’ of going, are you?”
“Why not?” said Cicely calmly. “We came here to fix up that letter, and now it’s fixed.”