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Chapter XIV.
WRITING A LETTER.
'IF you insist,' Trent said, 'I suppose you will have your way. But I had much rather write it when I am not with you. However, if I must, bring me a tablet whiter than a star, or hand of hymning angel; I mean a sheet of note-paper not stamped with your address. Don't under-estimate the sacrifice I am making. I never felt less like correspondence in my life.'
She rewarded him.
'What shall I say?' he enquired, his pen hovering over the paper. 'Shall I compare him to a summer's day? What shall I say?'
'Say what you want to say,' she suggested helpfully.
He shook his head. 'What I want to say–what I have been wanting for the past twenty-four hours to say to every man, woman, and
