Scotland had not been far behind the Garden of Eden under those circumstances.
But Arthur was now pursuing the higher, the intellectual joys.
She finished her supper, and then sat down to write to her husband.

Was she going to tell him anything about the incident of the afternoon?
Why should she?
Why should she give him the chance of becoming more than ever Lady Dunstable's friend--pegging out an eternal claim upon her gratitude?
Doris wrote her letter.

She described the progress of the spring cleaning; she reported that her sixth illustration was well forward, and that Uncle Charles was wrestling with another historical picture, a _machine_ neither better nor worse than all the others.

She thought that after all Jane would soon give warning; and she, Doris, had spent three pounds in petty cash since he went away; how, she could not remember, but it was all in her account book.
And she concluded: I understand then that we meet at Crewe on Friday fortnight?
I have heard of a lodging near Capel Curig which sounds delightful.

We might do a week's climbing and then go on to the sea.