In that long, imaginary walking-out she gave her thoughts and the whole of her heart, and to be doing this never surprised her, who, before, had not given them whole to anything.

A bee knows the first summer day and clings intoxicated to its flowers; so did Nedda know and cling.

She wrote him two letters and he wrote her one.

It was not poetry; indeed, it was almost all concerned with Wilmet Gaunt, asking Nedda to find a place in London where the girl could go; but it ended with the words: "Your lover, "DEREK." This letter troubled Nedda.

She would have taken it at once to Felix or to Flora if it had not been for the first words, "Dearest Nedda," and those last three.