Quicksand
from Uncle Peter. It had originally been sent to Naxos, and from there it had made the journey back to Chicago to the Young Women‘s Christian Association, and then to Mrs. Hayes-Rore. That busy woman had at last found time between conventions and lectures to readdress it and had sent it on to New York. Four months, at least, it had been on its travels. Helga felt no curiosity as to its contents, only annoyance at the long delay, as she ripped open the thin edge of the envelope, and for a space sat staring at the peculiar foreign script of her uncle.
715 Sheridan Road
Chicago, Ill.
Dear Helga:
It is now over a year since you made your unfortunate call here. It was unfortunate for us all, you, Mrs. Nilssen, and myself. But of course you couldn‘t know. I blame myself. I should have written you of my marriage.
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