"_Sir,"_ it ran, "_if so be as you'd like to have a bit of news from one as has it, take a walk through Hobkin's Hole tomorrow morning and look out for Yours truly--Him as writes this_." Like most very young men Copplestone on arriving at what he called manhood (by which he meant the age of twenty-one years), had drawn up for himself a code of ethics, wherein he had mentally scheduled certain things to be done and certain things not to be done.

One of the things which he had firmly resolved never to do was to take any notice of an anonymous letter.

Here was an anonymous letter, and with it a conflict between his principles and his inclinations.

In five minutes he learnt that cut-and-dried codes are no good when the hard facts of every-day life have to be faced and that expediency is a factor in human existence which has its moral values.

In plain English, he made up his mind to visit Hobkin's Hole next morning and find out who the unknown correspondent was.
He was half tempted to go round to the cottage and show the queer scrawl to Audrey Greyle, of whom, having passed six delightful hours in her company--he was beginning to think much more than was good for him, unless he intended to begin thinking of her always.