“What do you think? It’s Miss Nunn!”
“Miss Nunn! Never! How could she have got the address?”
Again the difficulty was discussed whilst its ready solution lay neglected.
“Do read it!” said Alice at length, her throbbing head, made worse by the agitation, obliging her to sink down into the chair.
The letter ran thus:—
“DEAR Miss MADDEN,—This morning I chanced to meet with Mrs. Darby, who was passing through London on her way home from the seaside. We had only five minutes’ talk (it was at a railway station), but she mentioned that you were at present in London, and gave me your address. After all these years, how glad I should be to see you! The struggle of life has made me selfish; I have neglected my old friends. And yet I am bound to add that some of them have neglected me. Would you rather that I came to your lodgings or you to mine? Which you like. I hear that your elder sister is with you, and that Monica is also in London somewhere. Do let us all see each other once more. Write as soon as you can. My kindest regards to all of you.—Sincerely yours,
RHODA NUNN.”
“How like her,” exclaimed Virginia, when she had read this aloud, “to remember that perhaps we may not care to receive visitors! She was always so thoughtful. And it is true that I ought to have written to her.”
“We shall go to her, of course?”
“Oh yes, as she gives us the choice. How delightful! I wonder what she is doing? She writes cheerfully; I am sure she must be in a good position. What is the address? Queen’s Road, Chelsea. Oh, I’m so glad it’s not very far. We can walk there and back easily.”