Instantly I rush to the writing-materials.
"What, writing already ?" says my husband, reentering, and coming over with a smile toward me.

"Have you forgotten any of your finery ?" "No, no!" cry I, impulsively, spreading both hands over the sheet; "do not look! you must not look!" "Do you think I _should_ ?" he says, reproachfully, turning quickly away.
"But you may," cry I, with one of my sudden useless remorses, holding out the note to him.

"Do! I should like you to!--I do not know why I said it!--I was only sending them a line, just to tell them how _dreadfully_ I missed them all!".