“She interests me deeply, and I’m growing very fond of her.”
“Lucky Isabelle,” her husband smiled.
Later in the day when the other girls were out at play Mrs. Benjamin came upon Isabelle, pen in hand, gazing into the distance.
“What is troubling my child?”
“Mr. Benjamin told me to write to Max.”
“Who is Max?”
“My mother.”
“Thy mother, and thee calls her Max?”
“I always have.”
“But it is not respectful, is it?”