‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane. “Hello, Teddy!” she answered. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. Even you have not been able to hold her back.
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