But as you know, ma'am, that's a good sign with her." "Yes, I think it is, Pegler." Pegler slipped noiselessly away, and then Blanche opened the envelope containing Mark Gifford's long-delayed Christmas letter.
"Home Office, "_December 23rd_.
"MY DEAR BLANCHE, "'How use doth breed a habit in a man!' Well anyhow, as you know, it is my custom, which has now attained the dignity of a habit, always to write you a letter for Christmas.

Hitherto I have always known where it would find you, but this year is an exception, for I really have no idea where you are.
"This year is an exception in another respect also.

Hitherto, my dear Blanche, I have, with a tact which I hope you have silently appreciated, always managed to keep out of my Christmas letter any reference to what you know I have never given up hoping for even against hope.

But this time I can't keep it out because I have had a really good idea.

Even a Civil Servant may have a good idea sometimes, and I assure you that this came to me out of office hours--as a matter of fact it came to me when I was sitting in that funny little old Westminster churchyard where we once spent what was, to me, the happiest of half-hours.
"I know you have thought me unsympathetic and disapproving about that which holds for you so great a fascination.