It was a long time, too, before Philip grew accustomed to dictating letters. His first incursion into this enterprise gave him an uncomfortable quarter of an hour. He began by ringing for Alfred, and asking him to request Miss Jennings to be so good as to come and speak to him for a moment. His message was delivered by that youthful humourist with elaborate ceremony,—this was in the pre-Willesden-Green days,—coupled with a confident assurance that it portended either a proposal of marriage or "the sack." Miss Jennings's reply Philip did not catch, for only Alfred's raucous deliverances could penetrate closed doors, but it effectually silenced that young gentleman's guns. His only discernible retort was "Suffragette!"
Presently Miss Jennings appeared, slightly flushed, and shut the door behind her.
"You want me, Mr. Meldrum?" she asked.
Philip rose to his feet.
"Yes. Would you mind taking down one or two letters for me, Miss Jennings?" he said.
"Oh, is that all?" replied Miss Jennings, quite composed again. "Mr. Atherton usually just shouts. I'll go and get my things."
She returned with her writing-pad, and taking a chair at Philip's elbow, sat down and regarded him with an indulgent smile.
Philip began, huskily:—
The Britannia Motor Company, Limited, Oxford Street, London, October.
Miss Jennings sat patiently waiting.