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. Circumstances 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 God 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 God
bless you. How do you sign yourself?'
'Oh, Willie.
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