"Good night,
"DIANA."
She wrote next day, also:
"Jim! My little Christine is in love—that's what's the matter! I know it; I'm absolutely sure of it. And with—oh, ye humorous gods and dryads!—with your melancholy friend, Mr. Inwood.
"And I want to tell you, Jim, that I don't like Mrs. Wemyss. She's fat and selfish and—why does she drag that boy about with her all the time? I don't believe he likes it. I don't believe he's so enamored of her. Maybe his low spirits come from too much of that fair and ample lady. I'm going to find out. I won't have my little Christine ignored by any melancholy idiot who ever lived.
"Write me what you know about Mr. Inwood.
"How is Chance, and the twisted path, and little Miss Ellis?
"Scott Wallace and I managed to shoot a grouse. We both fired, and neither of us were inclined to claim the poor, dead, little thing. A keeper put it in his pocket. Mr. Wallace and I are going to take up target shooting hereafter.
"DIANA."
He wrote: "Inwood is all right. Who is Mrs. Wemyss?