March 12th.
Dear Ginger,--I saw in a Sunday paper last week that "The Primrose Way"had been produced in New York, and was a great success. Well, I'm veryglad. But I don't think the papers ought to print things like that. It'sunsettling.
Next day, I did one of those funny things you do when you're feelingblue and lonely and a long way away from everybody. I called at yourclub and asked for you! Such a nice old man in uniform at the desk saidin a fatherly way that you hadn't been in lately, and he rather fanciedyou were out of town, but would I take a seat while he inquired. Hethen summoned a tiny boy, also in uniform, and the child skipped offchanting, "Mister Kemp! Mister Kemp!" in a shrill treble. It gave mesuch an odd feeling to hear your name echoing in the distance. I felt soashamed for giving them all that trouble; and when the boy came backI slipped twopence into his palm, which I suppose was against all therules, though he seemed to like it.
Mr. Faucitt has sold the business and retired to the country, and I amrather at a loose end...
Monk's Crofton, (whatever that means) Much Middleford, Salop, (slang for Shropshire) England.