Yes, here it is.

Now, then, front you speak, and back you write.

There you are--it's a letter!" "Well, now," said Acton, getting off the bench and sticking his hands deep in his trousers pockets, "what had I better say?
I shall be fifteen in August; I thought I'd tell her my age, and say I didn't mind waiting." "I believe it's the girl who always says that," answered Jack Vance, kicking a bit of wood into a corner.
"Then, again, I don't know how to begin.

Would you say 'Dear Miss Eleanor,' or 'Dear Miss Welsby'?
I think 'Dear Eleanor' sounds rather cheeky." "I'll tell you what I should do," answered Diggory, who seemed to have a great idea of letting the fates decide these matters: "I should write 'em all three on slips of paper and then draw one." "Well, I'm going to write the letter in 'prep' this evening, and let her have it to-morrow.

Did you notice I gave her a flower this morning, and she stuck it in her dress ?" "Yes; but fellows are often doing that," answered Jack Vance, "and she always wears them, either in her dress or stuck up somehow under her brooch." "Oh, but this was a white rose, and a white rose means something, though I don't know what.