Jacob summoned Dauncey and put the letter into his hand.
“Read this, my astute friend, and comment,” he invited.
Dauncey read and reread it before passing it back.
“The young lady,” he observed, “is becoming amenable. She is also, I should imagine, hankering after the fleshpots. A month or two of typing has perhaps had its effect.”
“Any other criticism?”
Dauncey shook his head.
“It seems to me an ordinary communication enough,” he confessed.
“I suppose you are right,” Jacob admitted thoughtfully. “Perhaps I am getting suspicious. It must have been seeing Miss Bultiwell with that hateful crowd.”
“You think that the dancing class is a blind?”