But the quicker she wanted to be, the more slowly her thoughts moved amongst awkward sentences which she must write.

She dashed off in the end the standard phrase for such emergencies.

"I will write to you to-morrow," addressed and stamped her letter and dropped it into the letter box.

The letter fell in the glass box with the address uppermost.

But Joan did not trouble about that, did not even notice it; a weight was off her mind.
"I am ready," she said, and a few seconds later the music of "The Long Trail" was wafted to the astonished ears of the tennis players in the garden.