The quartet was mercifully concluding its shrill rendition of The Duchess of Devonshire’s Reel when commotion ensued.
What a pity that you, dearest Anthony, will never know the singular thrill of an encounter with Anthony Haverhill. At first one feels harpooned; it’s as if invisible spears, launched from your eyes, anchor in one’s own, so constant and unyielding is your focus. It sounds grisly but oh, dearest Anthony, it is anything but! Your eyes (enchanting, by the way) do not quiver, flit, or wander as eyes are prone to do.
My Dearest Anthony
The quartet was mercifully concluding its shrill rendition of The Duchess of Devonshire’s Reel when commotion ensued. “Why, it’s Anthony Haverhill and the Cordrays, William and Lydia, just returned from Biarritz!” someone nearby exclaimed and I jostled like the others to see for myself. Besieged as you were by well-wishers and enveloped as I was in the throng you might not have spotted me. I assure you I was delighted.
Ours is not a crowd prone to frivolous effusions. Until recently, the Cordrays’s …