"Sorry, shan't be able to now. —— has just been called up, and sails from —— for —— on ——. So perhaps you and I had better be engaged again. I'm longing for a bracelet.

"Phyllis."

There was only one way of answering this superb piece of impudence. I enclosed a blank sheet of paper to Phyllis, signifying my complete indifference.

Her still more negative answer was an envelope addressed to me with no enclosure at all.

To this I replied by not replying.

And here, by all the laws of sequence, our correspondence should have been brought to a standstill. I calculated, however, that when the postman delivered my phantom communication next morning Phyllis would not remain twiddling her thumbs for long.

Sure enough, about 9 A.M. I received this wire:

"Regret your letter of apology intercepted by Censor. Will take same for granted in consideration of war-time. All is forgiven. Call here this evening with bracelet.—Phyllis."


New Wisdom for Old.