washed her hot wet face, put on her dressinggown, and wrote:
"My dear Nick Portal:
"Will you come to tea this afternoon, to talk over a business matter? My husband and I are most anxious to remodel the gardens of his old home in the country"
She finished the note, made changes, threw it away, and labored over another and another before she had one spontaneous enough to be copied out.
"Will you do something for me, darling?" she asked Curtis in the morning. "I long for a real country summer. Would you be willing to spend it on the Farm? I'm so sick of Southampton, and sitting on the sand in silk, with pearls and gloves. And Europe is worse—the Lido, and the horrible Lido young—well, men, I suppose. I've gone to these places for you, Curtis"
"Why, Christabel"
