Lynette’s delight baffled him.
“Now, that’s just what I wanted. Isn’t it like Miss Eve to think of it? I must write to her, daddy. Where’s she say she’s living now?”
“In London.”
“Why doesn’t she come for Christmas?”
“Because she’s so very busy. You write and thank her, old lady, and I’ll send your letter with mine.”
Lynette produced a longish letter, and Canterton wrote one of his own. He enclosed a five pound note, addressed the envelope to Miss Eve Carfax, c/o Miss Kate Duveen, and sent it into the unknown to take its chance.
He had written:
“It still hurts me not a little that you will not trust me with your address. I give you my promise never to come to you unless you send for me.
“Buy yourself something for the studio from me and Lynette. Even if you spend the money on flowers I shall be quite happy.”
And since Kate Duveen’s landlady did not know Eve’s address, and happened to be a conscientious soul, Canterton’s letter was put into another envelope and sent to hunt Kate down in the land of the lotus and the flamingo.