Katherine read this characteristic epistle through twice, then she laid it down and stared out of her bedroom window across the blue waters of the Mediterranean. She felt a curious lump in her throat. A sudden wave of longing for St. Mary Mead swept over her. So full of familiar, everyday, stupid little things⁠—and yet⁠—home. She felt very inclined to lay her head down on her arms and indulge in a real good cry.

Lenox, coming in at the moment, saved her.

“Hello, Katherine,” said Lenox. “I say⁠—what is the matter?”

“Nothing,” said Katherine, grabbing up Miss Viner’s letter and thrusting it into her handbag.