Come. In the eagerness of my letter of yesterday to put myself not in the right but less, if possible, in the wrong, I forgot the very matter with which the right and the wrong originated.
Will you, after all, send the ferns?
The whole garden waits for them; a white light falls on the vacant spot; a white light falls on your books in my library; a white light falls on you,
I wait for you, both hands outstretched.
EDWARD BLACKTHORNE.
(Note penciled on the margin of the letter by Beverley Sands to Ben Doolittle: "You will see that I am back where the whole thing started; I have to begin all over again with the ferns. And now the florists will be after me again. I feel this in the trembling marrow of my bones, and my bones by this time are a wireless station on this subject.")
BEVERLEY.
JUDD & JUDD TO BEVERLEY SANDS
DEAR SIR:
We take pleasure in enclosing our new catalogue for the coming autumn, and should be pleased to receive any further commissions for the European trade.