A Duet (with an occasional chorus) | Page 9

said it was the neatest
thing he had heard for a long time, so mamma is very pleased, but I am
sure that she does not know even now why it should be so funny.
What stupid letters I write! Doesn't it frighten you when you read them
and think that is the person with whom I have to spend my life. Yet you
never seem alarmed about it. I think it is so BRAVE of you. That
reminds me that I never finished what I wanted to say at the beginning
of this letter. Even supposing that I am pretty (and my complexion

sometimes is simply awful), you must bear in mind how quickly the
years slip by, and how soon a woman alters. Why, we shall hardly be
married before you will find me full of wrinkles, and without a tooth in
my head. Poor boy, how dreadful for you! Men seem to change so little
and so slowly. Besides, it does not matter for them, for nobody marries
a man because he is pretty. But you must marry me, Frank, not for what
I look but for what I am--for my inmost, inmost self, so that if I had no
body at all, you would love me just the same. That is how I love you,
but I do prefer you with your body on all the same. I don't know how I
love you, dear. I only know that I am in a dream when you are near
me--just a beautiful dream. I live for those moments.--Ever your own
little
MAUDE.
P.S.--Papa gave us such a fright, for he came in just now and said that
the window-cleaner and all his family were very ill. This was a joke,
because the coachman had told him about my tart. Wasn't it horrid of
him?
Woking, June 17th.
My own sweetest Maude,--I do want you to come up to town on
Saturday morning. Then I will see you home to St. Albans in the
evening, and we shall have another dear delightful week end. I think of
nothing else, and I count the hours. Now please to manage it, and don't
let anything stop you. You know that you can always get your way. Oh
yes, you can, miss! I know.
We shall meet at the bookstall at Charing Cross railway station at one
o'clock, but if anything should go wrong, send me a wire to the Club.
Then we can do some shopping together, and have some fun also. Tell
your mother that we shall be back in plenty of time for dinner. Make
another tart, and I shall eat it. Things are slack at the office just now,
and I could be spared for a few days.
So you have had a fish-slice. It is so strange, because on that very day I
had my first present, and it was a fish-slice also. We shall have fish at
each end when we give a dinner. If we get another fish- slice, then we
shall give a fish-dinner--or keep one of the slices to give to your friend
Nelly Sheridan when SHE gets married. They will always come in
useful. And I have had two more presents. One is a Tantalus
spirit-stand from my friends in the office. The other is a pair of bronzes

from the cricket club. They got it up without my knowing anything
about it, and I was amazed when a deputation came up to my rooms
with them last night. 'May your innings be long and your partnership
unbroken until you each make a hundred not out.' That was the
inscription upon a card.
I have something very grave to tell you. I've been going over my bills
and things, and I owe ever so much more than I thought. I have always
been so careless, and never known exactly how I stood. It did not
matter when one was a bachelor, for one always felt that one could live
quite simply for a few months, and so set matters straight. But now it is
more serious. The bills come to more than a hundred pounds; the
biggest one is forty-two pounds to Snell and Walker, the Conduit Street
tailors. However, I am ordering my marriage-suit from them, and that
will keep them quiet. I have enough on hand to pay most of the others.
But we must not run short upon our honeymoon--what an awful idea!
Perhaps there may be some cheques among our presents. We will hope
for the best.
But there is a more serious thing upon which I want to consult you.
You asked me never to have any secrets from you, or else I should not
bother you about such things. I should have kept it for Saturday when