She had grown so accustomed to his weekly letter that she missed it when it did not come, and had wondered for several days why he had failed to write.

Now she confessed to herself that she was glad the fault was with some postal clerk, and that Jack had not forgotten.

She turned to the last page.
"I don't know why I should be telling you all this.

I hope it does not bore you.

I usually wait till my hopes and plans work out into something practical before I mention them; but lately everything has gone so well that I can't help being sanguine over these new plans, and it makes their achievement seem nearer to talk them over with you.