just struck light." She positively struck light herself--she was
literally, facially luminous. I stammered something about
unconscious cerebration, and she continued: "He'll come right
home--this will bring him."

"To see Vereker, you mean?"

"To see Vereker--and to see ME. Think what he'll have to tell me!"

I hesitated. "About India?"

"About fiddlesticks! About Vereker--about the figure in the
carpet."

"But, as you say, we shall surely have that in a letter."

She thought like one inspired, and I remembered how Corvick had
told me long before that her face was interesting. "Perhaps it
can't be got into a letter if it's 'immense.'"

"Perhaps not if it's immense bosh. If he has hold of something
that can't be got into a letter he hasn't hold of THE thing.
Vereker's own statement to me was exactly that the 'figure' WOULD
fit into a letter."

"Well, I cabled to George an hour ago--two words," said Gwendolen.

"Is it indiscreet of me to ask what they were?"

She hung fire, but at last brought them out. "'Angel, write.'"