You have heard me speak of Florent Garnier. Twice has he asked me in marriage, and a week ago he sought me out and demand me for the third time.
He is more prosperous than ever. He has a grand auto, and a villa near the forest of St. Germain. On Sunday with Jeanne we drive out to see it, and it is truly charming. Only he says he is so lonely there all by himself....
What am I to do? I think I am the most unhappy girl in all Paris. It is a great chance for me, and Madame Folette, Jeanne and the girls tell me I am crazy to refuse. Which is quite true because I am all alone in the life....
I do not ask your advice because I know you will tell me to take him too, and I don’t like when you do that. All the same I thing you are right, and this time it is for the best that I shall tell him.... Yes.
I hope you are well, and happy, and think of you very, very often.
Votre petite soeur adoptée,
Margot.
Florent wishes we marry on the seventeenth September so that in that day you must think of me and wish me happiness.”
It was quarter past one when Hugh received this letter; it was half past when he jumped into the carmine car and told the chauffeur to drive him to Vulning’s villa.
“Keep to the blind side of that chap and he’ll never know you,” Bob Bender had said. “What with Vulning’s coat and hat and them yellow glasses he’s wearin’ lately any one would take you for his twin brother. The chauffeur’s had one or two drinks too much anyway,—we’ve seen to that. ’E’ll ’ave all ’is time taken up lookin’ after ’is car.”
“And Vulning?”