Stephen's letter in reply to Madame Claire's last was brief. She guessed that he was still suffering, and was not up to writing at any length.
"Bronchitis and phlebitis," he wrote, "are not as pretty as they sound, although your garden amused me very much. Miss McPherson would be happy in it, that's certain. When I'm feeling better I see her casting longing glances at old Jock Wetherby, who's got more ailments than the doctors can put names to. But when I'm at my worst she clucks over me like a proud hen.
"Connie's Count seems to suspect collusion. He tried to pump me about her yesterday. I was out in the sun for five minutes, and he appeared so promptly I think he'd been waiting for me. As soon as he began asking questions I had a coughing fit, so he went away. From what I hear—for I listen to gossip when it suits me to do so—Connie could get a divorce ten times over. I expect he misses her in a way. He found he could make her suffer—an occupation his sort delights in.
