“But what comes next?” Lady Forthingdale asked. “That is what I cannot determine.”
“You will have inspiration later on,” Anthea suggested. “It’s nearly luncheon time, Mama. I was just going to come and interrupt you anyway.”
“This morning the first part of the poem seemed to flow quite smoothly,” Lady Forthingdale went on, but Anthea could bear it no longer.
“There’s a letter, Mama! It arrived over an hour ago!”
The words seemed to burst from her and Lady Forthingdale looked at her daughter in astonishment before she said in quite genuine bewilderment,
“Letter? What letter?”
“A letter from London, Mama.”
“From London? Oh – from Delphine Sheldon. I had forgotten. Do you mean there is an answer to mine?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Chloe jumped up to take the letter from the mantelshelf and put it
