I am here at the club writing this before I go home to bed.

Now I am going.

Good-night, my beloved.
"DUANE." "P.S .-- An honour, or the chance of it, has suddenly confronted me, surprising me so much that I don't really dare to believe that it can possibly happen to me--at least not for years.

It is this: I met Guy Wilton the other day; you don't know him, but he is a most charming and cultivated man, an engineer.

I lunched with him at the Pyramid--that bully old club into which nothing on earth can take a man who has not distinguished himself in his profession.