DEAR LADY AMBLESHAM, Who gives quickly, says the old proverb, gives
twice. For this reason I have purposely delayed writing to you, lest I
should appear to thank you more than once for the small, cheap, hideous
present you sent me on the occasion of my recent wedding. Were you a
poor woman, that little bowl of ill-imitated Dresden china would convict
you of tastelessness merely; were you a blind woman, of nothing but
an odious parsimony. As you have normal eyesight and more than normal
wealth, your gift to me proclaims you at once a Philistine and a miser
(or rather did so proclaim you until, less than ten seconds after I had
unpacked it from its wrappings of tissue paper, I took it to the open
window and had the satisfaction of seeing it shattered to atoms on the
pavement). But stay! I perceive a possible flaw in my argument. Perhaps
you were guided in your choice by a definite wish to insult me. I am
sure, on reflection, that this was so. I shall not forget. Yours, etc.,
CYNTHIA BEAUMARSH.
PS. My husband asks me to tell you to warn Lord Amblesham to keep out
of his way or to assume some disguise so complete that he will not be
recognised by him and horsewhipped.
PPS. I am sending copies of this letter to the principal London and
provincial newspapers.