He rebuked himself for not being
able to think of something else to change. He forgot his
clothes, and was happy.
At six-fifteen he summoned a boy and sent him up with a message
that Mr. Wrenn was waiting and high tea ready.
The boy came back muttering, "Miss Nash left this note for you,
sir, the stewardess says."
Mr. Wrenn opened the green-and-white Caravanserai letter
excitedly. Perhaps Istra, too, was dressing for the party!
He loved all s'prises just then. He read:
Mouse dear, I'm sorrier than I can tell you, but you know I
warrned you that bad Istra was a creature of moods, and just now
my mood orders me to beat it for Paris, which I'm doing, on the
5.17 train. I won't say good-by--I hate good-bys, they're so
stupid, don't you think? Write me some time, better make it
care Amer. Express Co., Paris, because I don't know yet just
where I'll be. And please don't look me up in Paris, because
it's always better to end up an affair without explanations,
don't you think? You have been wonderfully kind to me, and I'll
send you some good thought-forms, shall I?
I.
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