to wait for the real thing. Instinct is the lead to follow, and hers is a right one.
"That was a wonderful letter of yours, Claire. I hope there will be many more. They give me something to look forward to. I haven't a half dozen young people about me as you have. I've one niece, Monica de Lisle. Ugly, churchy, uninteresting female. You may remember her.
"Cannes is delightful, but alas! I am too old to enjoy more than the sun and the color of the sky. How do you manage to keep so young in your mind? Bob used to say you'd die young if you lived to be a hundred, and he was right.
"I'm reading Shakespeare mostly. I find the old ones the best, and he's the best of the old ones. Omniscient, he was.
"Well, well, write again soon. Don't tire yourself, but—write soon. Do you remember old Jock Wetherby? He's here at this hotel. Tottering on the brink, and ten years my junior. Drink—women—all the cheapening vices. Looks it, too.
"Tell me about Judy and the others.
"Yours ever,
"Stephen."
"P.S.—I've got the ugliest nurse in Christendom."
