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54 and though he had not much time to spare (for his work last night on his old diaries had caused him to breakfast unusually late that morning to the accompaniment of a dismal headache from over-application), he had stopped to converse with Miss Mapp immediately afterwards, with one eye on the time, for naturally he could not fire off that sort of news point-blank at her, as if it was a matter of any interest or importance.

“Good morning, dear lady,” he said. “By Jove! what a picture of health and freshness you are!”

Miss Mapp cast one glance at her basket to see that the paper quite concealed that article of clothing which the perfidious laundry had found. (Probably the laundry knew where it was all the time, and&#8203;—&#8203;in a figurative sense, of course&#8203;—&#8203;was “trying it on.”)

“Early to bed and early to rise, Major,” she said. “I saw my sweet flowers open their eyes this morning! Such a beautiful dew!”

“Well, my diaries kept me up late last night,” he said. “When all you fascinating ladies have withdrawn is the only time at which I can bring myself to sit down to them.”

“Let me recommend six to eight in the morning, Major,” said Miss Mapp earnestly. “Such a freshness of brain then.”

That seemed to be a cul-de-sac in the way of leading up to the important subject, and the Major tried another turning.

“Good, well-fought game of bridge we had yesterday,” he said. “Just met Mrs. Plaistow; she stopped on for a chat after we had gone.”

“Dear Diva; she loves a good gossip,” said Miss Mapp effusively. “Such an interest she has in other people’s