There was no blotting paper, so he waved it in the air before handing it over.
A rush of tears came to Irene's eyes when she saw what he had written.
She held out her hand, utterly giving up an attempt to find words.
"Thank you for calling up," said Martin, doing his best to be perfectly natural and ordinary.

"I wish you'd done so sooner.

Poor old Tootles.
Write to the Devon Yacht Club, Long Island, and let me know how you get on.

We've all three been up against some rotten bad luck, haven't we?
Good-by, then.

I'll go up to Tootles now." "No, no," she said, "don't.