The "enclosed form" is a formidable-looking sheet of blue foolscap divided into columns for questions and answers. It reads:
S. B. No. 999.
1. Names (Christian Henry Reginald Westerton
and Surname), with Assheleigh, Ninth Baron
Title or Titles, if any. Ruddington.
2. Address or Addresses. Ruddington Towers,
Sussex; Assheleigh House,
St. Michael's Square, S.W.;
Ballymore Castle, County
Kerry.
3. Age. 23 171/365 years.
4. Has applicant He has heard so.
had whooping-cough?
5. Or Measles? One.
If so, how many?
6. Weight. 10 st. 8 lb. (Includes 2.1739
oz. of letters from Suzanne,
in left-side breast-pocket
at time of weighing.)
7. Can applicant read? No need to. Suzanne so
seldom writes.
8. Can applicant write? Yes. Once a week.
9. What are applicant's Not Tory. Conservative.
politics? More liberal than the
Liberals, less radical than
the Radicals.
10. What are applicant's Waiting for Suzanne's
pursuits? letters. Until last month,
spent leisure studying
Spanish history and
literature.
11. Personal appearance. Quite as bad as Derlingham
photograph. Probably worse.
12. Hair. Brownish-black; or blackish-brown.
13. Eyes. Blue.
14. Does applicant ride? Every day.
15. Does applicant swim? Yes.
16. Does applicant fish? Yes.
17. Does applicant hunt? Not much.
18. Does applicant swear? Now and then. Is prepared
to give it up.
19. Does applicant drink? Half a bottle of claret twice
a day.
20. Does applicant smoke? Not before 1.50 p.m. If
Suzanne objects, he
confesses that he objects to
her objecting.
21. Has applicant a Hates them. But will learn
motor-car? to love them if Suzanne does.
22. Additional remarks. Is bad-tempered, impatient,
obstinate, and self-opinionated.
Has no first-hand
knowledge of the time it
takes to prepare Byronic
(or other) curls o' nights.
Has not been in love
before. Hasn't a Past.
And hasn't a Future
either, unless it's to be
spent with Suzanne.
I don't know yet what Susan thinks of these documents. She has left them on my table without remark.
At the first glance I didn't like them. They smacked too much of the funny man labouring to be smart. But, after a second reading, I like them. After all, the poor boy couldn't very well sit down with a serious face and write out his own testimonial in cold ink. His wit might be sprightlier: but I begin to discern the gravity underlying it. His way of bringing it in that he has no Past, no entanglements, no old flames, is skilful and considerate. Perhaps this is the very point Susan has been worrying about. Who knows? Perhaps she has been fearing that she isn't the first simple beauty that his lordship has taken by storm. Perhaps she thinks he is an old-style lord, with a pretty taste in milk-maids, and therefore not much better than a new-style lord with a nasty appetite for ladies of the ballet.
Whatever am I to say if Susan asks me what he means by the little bits written up the sides?
Tuesday, 3 p.m.
My bathe made me tired. I sha'n't go out again to-day.
Susan is wooden-headed past belief. I was amused for a few moments at the odd comments she made on Ruddington's letter; but her dulness grows monotonous. She began:
"Don't you think, Miss, that ... that he writes rather strange?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.