Her only present friend was Mrs. Pipkin, who treated her with the greatest deference, but who was never tired of asking questions about the lost lover. "That letter was from Mr. Montague?" said Mrs. Pipkin on the morning after it had been received.
"How can you know that?"
"I'm sure it was. One does get to know handwritings when letters come frequent."
"It was from him. And why not?"

Mrs. Pipkin, who had been told her engagement was ended, asked her, "That letter was from Mr. Montague? One gets to know handwritings when letters come frequent."
"It was from him. And why not?"
