of the German Army. She was arrested and sentenced to prison on the continent.
Mrs. Maugery, at the time of Elizabeth’s arrest, took the baby into her home. And since that night? The Literary Society has raised that child as its own—toting her around from house to house in turn. The principal work of the baby’s maintenance was undertaken by Amelia Maugery, with other Society members taking her out—like a library book—for several weeks at a time.
They all dandled the baby, and now that the child can walk, she goes everywhere with one or another of them—holding hands or riding on their shoulders. Such are their standards! You must not glorify such people in the
You’ll not hear from me again—I have done my best. Let it be on your head.
Adelaide Addison
Cable from Sidney to Juliet
20th March, 1946
DEAR JULIET—TRIP HOME DELAYED. FELL OFF HORSE, BROKE LEG. PIERS NURSING. LOVE, SIDNEY
Cable from Juliet to Sidney
21st March, 1946
OH, GOD, WHICH LEG? AM SO SORRY. LOVE, JULIET
Cable from Sidney to Juliet
22nd March, 1946
IT WAS THE OTHER ONE. DON’T WORRY—LITTLE PAIN. PIERS EXCELLENT NURSE. LOVE, SIDNEY
Cable from Juliet to Sidney
22nd March, 1946
SO HAPPY IT WASN’T THE ONE I BROKE. CAN I SEND ANYTHING TO HELP YOUR CONVALESCENCE? BOOKS —RECORDINGS—POKER CHIPS—MY LIFE’S BLOOD?
Cable from Sidney to Juliet
23rd March, 1946
NO BLOOD, NO BOOKS, NO POKER CHIPS. JUST KEEP SENDING LONG LETTERS TO ENTERTAIN US. LOVE, SIDNEY AND PIERS
From Juliet to Sophie
23rd March, 1946
Dear Sophie,
I only got a cable, so you know more than I do. But whatever the circumstances, it’s absolutely ridiculous for you to consider flying off to Australia. What about Alexander? And Dominic? And your lambs? They’ll pine away.
Stop and think for a moment, and you’ll realize why you shouldn’t fuss. First off, Piers will take excellent care of Sidney. Second, better Piers than us—remember what a vile patient Sidney was last time? We should be glad he’s thousands of miles away. Third, Sidney has been stretched as tight as a bow-string for years. He needs a rest, and breaking his leg is probably the only way he’ll allow himself to take one. Most important of all, Sophie:
I’m perfectly certain Sidney would prefer me to write a new book than to appear at his bedside in Australia, so I intend to stay right here in my dreary flat and cast about for a subject. I do have a tiny infant of an idea, much too frail and defenseless to risk describing, even to you. In honor of Sidney’s leg, I’m going to coddle it and feed it and see if I can make it grow.
Now, about Markham V. Reynolds (Junior). Your questions regarding that gentleman are very delicate, very subtle, very much like being smacked in the head with a mallet. Am I in love with him? What kind of a question is that? It’s a tuba among the flutes, and I expect better of you. The first rule of snooping is to come at it sideways —when you began writing me dizzy letters about Alexander, I didn’t ask if you were in love with him, I asked what his favorite animal was. And your answer told me everything I needed to know about him—how many men would admit that they loved ducks? (This brings up an important point: I don’t know what Mark’s favorite animal is. I doubt it’s a duck.)
Would you care for a few suggestions? You could ask me who his favorite author is (Dos Passos! Hemingway!!). Or his favorite color (blue, not sure what shade, probably royal). Is he a good dancer? (Yes, far better than I, never steps on my toes, but doesn’t talk or even hum while dancing. Doesn’t hum at all so far as I know.) Does he have brothers or sisters? (Yes, two older sisters, one married to a sugar baron and the other widowed last year. Plus one younger brother, dismissed with a sneer as an ass.)
