because they wanted you to be with them, and let them comfort you."
"No one can comfort me."
"Not yet. But by and by it will be different. Won't you stay with some friends—near Riding St. Mary?"
"I couldn't do that. I think I shall go straight to a London hotel."
"Which one? I want to know," Terry persisted, "because I might wish to write to you."
His face brightened faintly. "Would you write to me?" he asked. "I—should like to have a letter from you."
"What about?" Terry inquired, smiling.
"Anything! Just to hear from you. To have a letter."
"You shall have one," she assured him. "As good a letter as I know how to write. The letter of a friend to a friend."
"Will you write it on the boat, or in the train between Dover and London, and post it when you get to town?" Sir Ian pleaded anxiously.
"Why on the boat or in the train?"
"Because I should like to have the thoughts almost warm from your hand, when they reach me."
"I could write it after arriving in London, if you want them so very fresh."
"No," said Sir Ian. "Please post the letter immedi-
