There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. Prudence twinkled at them, and reached out to pat Melusine’s hand. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. Wood and several serving-men, all well armed, rushed into the room. I hope you won’t mind if I say first that I think it does me an extraordinary honor that you should think of any one like myself so highly and seriously, and, secondly, that I wish it had not been written.
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