"A pretty sort of friend, you! When you was going away, you was to be back at Carbury in a fortnight; and that is,--oh, ever so long ago now."
"But I wrote to you, Ruby."
"What's letters? And the postman to know all as in 'em for anything anybody knows, and grandfather to be almost sure to see 'em. I don't call letters no good at all, and I beg you won't write 'em any more."
"Did he see them?"
"No thanks to you if he didn't. I don't know why you are come here, Sir Felix,--nor yet I don't know why I should come and meet you. It's all just folly like."

"A pretty sort of friend! You said you was to be back at Carbury in a fortnight; and that is ever so long ago now."
"But I wrote to you, Ruby."
"What's letters? And grandfather is almost sure to see 'em. I beg you won't write any more."
"Did he see them?"
"No thanks to you if he didn't. I don't know why you are come here, Sir Felix, - nor why I should come and meet you. It's all just folly like."
