Tragedy and comedy mingle in the Agony Column.  Erring ones are urged to return for forgiveness; unwelcome suitors are warned that “Father has warrant prepared; fly, Dearest One!” Loves that would shame by their ardor Abelard and Heloise are frankly published—­at ten cents a word—­for all the town to smile at.  The gentleman in the brown derby states with fervor that the blonde governess who got off the tram at Shepherd’s Bush has quite won his heart.  Will she permit his addresses?  Answer; this department.  For three weeks West had found this sort of thing delicious reading.  Best of all, he could detect in these messages nothing that was not open and innocent.  At their worst they were merely an effort to side-step old Lady Convention; this inclination was so rare in the British, he felt it should be encouraged.  Besides, he was inordinately fond of mystery and romance, and these engaging twins hovered always about that column.

So, while waiting for his strawberries, he smiled over the ungrammatical outburst of the young lady who had come to doubt the genuineness of him who called her Dearest.  He passed on to the second item of the morning.  Spoke one whose heart had been completely conquered: 

My lady sleeps.  She of raven tresses.  Corner seat from Victoria, Wednesday night.  Carried program.  Gentleman answering inquiry desires acquaintance.  Reply here. —­Le Roi.

West made a mental note to watch for the reply of raven tresses.  The next message proved to be one of Aye’s lyrics—­now almost a daily feature of the column: 

Dearest:  Tender loving wishes to my dear one.  Only to be with you now and always.  None “fairer in my eyes.”  Your name is music to me.  I love you more than life itself, my own beautiful darling, my proud sweetheart, my joy, my all!  Jealous of everybody.  Kiss your dear hands for me.  Love you only.  Thine ever. —­Aye.

Which, reflected West, was generous of Aye—­at ten cents a word —­and in striking contrast to the penurious lover who wrote, farther along in the column: 

—­loveu dearly; wantocu; longing; missu—­

But those extremely personal notices ran not alone to love. 
Mystery, too, was present, especially in the aquatic utterance: 

Defiant Mermaid:  Not mine.  Alligators bitingu now.  ’Tis well; delighted. —­First fish.

And the rather sanguinary suggestion: 

De Box:  First round; tooth gone.  Finale.  You will forget me not.

At this point West’s strawberries arrived and even the Agony Column could not hold his interest.  When the last red berry was eaten he turned back to read: 

Waterloo:  Wed. 11:53 train.  Lady who left in taxi and waved, care to know gent, gray coat? —­Sincere.

Also the more dignified request put forward in: