Part 28 (1/2)

However, have a little more tea, or some iced coffee, it's so much more refres.h.i.+ng I always think. My dear Willie, I was only chaffing you. I knew perfectly well it wasn't either of the people I suggested. The point is, it seems to prey on your mind, and worry you, and you won't break it off.'

'But how can I?'

'I will dictate you a letter,' she said. 'Far be it from me to interfere, and I don't pretend to know more about this sort of thing than anybody else. At the same time, if you'll take it down just as I tell it, and send it off, you'll find it will do admirably. Have you got a pencil?'

As if dully hypnotised, he took out a pencil and notebook.

'It would be awfully kind of you, Lady Everard. It might give me an idea anyway.'

'All right.'

She leant back and half closed her eyes, as if in thought; then started up with one finger out.

'We must be quick, because I'm expecting someone presently,' she said.

'But we've got time for this. Now begin. July 7th, 1912. Have you got that?'

'Yes, I've got that.'

'Or, perhaps, just Thursday. Thursday looks more casual, more full of feeling than the exact date. Got Thursday?'

'Yes, but it isn't Thursday, it's Friday.'

'All right, Friday, or any day you like. The day is not the point. You can send it tomorrow, or any time you like. Wednesday. My dearest Irene.'

'Her name's not Irene.'

'Oh no, I forgot. Take that out. Dear Margaretta. Circ.u.mstances have occurred since I last had the pleasure of seeing you that make it absolutely impossible that I could ever meet you again.'

'Oh, I say!'

'Go on. Ever see you or meet you again. You wish to be kind to her, I suppose?'

'Oh yes.'

'Then say: Duty has to come between us, but G.o.d knows I wish you well.'

Tears were beginning to come to Lady Everard's eyes, and she spoke with a break in her voice. 'I wish you well, Irene.'

'It's not Irene.'

'I wish you well, Margaretta. Some day in the far distant future you'll think of me, and be thankful for what I have done. It's for your good and my own happiness that we part now, and for ever. Adieu, and may G.o.d bless you. How do you sign yourself?'

'Oh, Willie.'

'Very well then, be more serious this time: Always your faithful friend, William Stacey Cricker.'

He glanced over the note, his face falling more and more, while Lady Everard looked more and more satisfied.

'Copy that out, word for word, the moment you go back, and send it off,' she said, 'and all the worst of your troubles will be over.'