6
Some days later, the same post brought two letters. One was Jennifer’s
answer, scribbled all but illegibly across a half-sheet of note-paper,
dashed off, it seemed, in wild haste.
Oh, it would be too lovely to see you again, darling. I can’t seem
to make plans, or think at all. You are alone and you sound as if
you had been so terribly unhappy. Oh, poor darling. Yes, it would
be marvellous to do something together, but what? You know you know
_you know_ what I’m like. Why do you want to be bothered with me
again. Remember how miserable I made you. But I must see you
again--just to set eyes on you again would be heavenly. October
24th. Will that suit you. I will come to our tea-shop where we
always went. Sit in the front room in the corner under the window.
I’ll come for you there about four o’clock. _Don’t wait for me
after 5._ I shall get there by car somehow. I thought if I didn’t
come till the afternoon it would give you time to go out to College
and see people if you want to. _I don’t want to._ Perhaps we could
stay the night somewhere. What do you think. I can’t say anything
more definite than this. I will _try_ to get there punctually. But
if I wasn’t there--(here several words were so thickly inked over
as to be indecipherable--and the letter ended in a
desperate-looking scrawl)--It will be too too lovely to be with you
again.