"Lucky me," she said.
"You've got a man to help you. That's what he's there for—to help you with legal documents and to have his work interrupted and all his ideas scattered. But, bless you, he doesn't mind. He knows his place."
"Well," she said, "it's this way. A very dear friend of mine has taken a house at the seaside, and they've sent her a document."
"A letting agreement," I said.
"I suppose so," she said; "and they want her to sign it; and they say something about a counterpart which somebody else is to sign."
"That," I said, "is the usual way."
"What I want to know is, ought she to sign her document?"
"Is it the sort of house she wants?"
"The very house," she said. "She's been over it. Lots of rooms; nice garden with tennis-lawn; splendid view of the sea; drainage in perfect order; weekly rent a mere nothing. There's to be an inventory."
"Of course there is. It's always done. Does the document embody everything she requires?"