What a jolly time you and Helen must have in that lovely old place.

I knew it well as a boy." "You must come and stay with us," said Ronnie, with an effort.
"Thanks, dear chap.Delighted.Has Helen kept well during your absence ?" "Quite well.

She wrote as often as she could, but there was a beastly long time when I could get no letters.

Hullo!--I say!" Ronnie stood up suddenly, the light of remembrance on his thin face, and began plunging his hands into the many pockets of his Norfolk coat.
"I found a letter from Helen at the _Poste Restante_, here; but owing to my absorption in the Infant, I clean forgot to read it! Heaven send I haven't dropped it anywhere!" He stood with his back to the stove, hunting vaguely, but feverishly, in all his pockets.
Aubrey smoked on, watching him without stirring.
Aubrey was wishing that Helen could know how long her letter had remained unread, owing to the Infant of Prague.
At length Ronnie found the letter--a large, square foreign envelope--safely stowed away in his pocket-book, in the inner breast-pocket of his coat.
"Of course," he said.

"I remember.