Write me as often as ever you can.  Your letters and Helen’s make
all the difference.

My love to you and to Henry. 
Your affectionate brother, Richard.

P.S.  Is Henry an Admiral yet?  I suppose he was in the Jutland
scrap, which they all tell us here was a great German victory.  I
hope he came out all right.

Philippa read the postscript with a little shiver.  Then she set her teeth as though determined to ignore it.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” she exclaimed, turning towards Helen with glowing eyes.  “Now yours, dear?”

Helen’s voice trembled as she read.  Her eyes, too, at times were misty: 

  Dearest,

I am writing to you so differently because I feel that you will really get this letter.  I have bad an astonishing stroke of luck, as you will gather from Philippa’s note.  You can’t imagine the difference.  A month ago I really thought I should have to chuck it in.  Now I am putting on flesh every day and beginning to feel myself again.  I owe my life to a pal with whom I was at college, and whom you and I, dearest, will have to remember all our lives.

I think of you always, and my thoughts are like the flowers of
which we see nothing in these hideous huts.  My greatest joy is
in dreaming of the day when we shall meet again.

Write to me often, sweetheart.  Your letters and my thoughts of
you are the one joy of my life.

                                               Always your lover,
          
                                             Dick.

There were a few moments of significant silence.  The girls were leaning together, their arms around one another’s necks, their heads almost touching.  Behind them, their visitor continued to eat and drink.  He rose at last, however, reluctantly to his feet, and coughed.  They started, suddenly remembering his presence.  Philippa turned impulsively towards him with outstretched hands.

“I can’t tell you how thankful we are to you,” she declared.

“Both of us,” Helen echoed.

He touched with his fingers a box of cigarettes which stood upon the tea-table.

“You permit?” he asked.

“Of course,” Philippa assented eagerly.  “You will find some matches on the tray there.  Do please help yourself.  I am afraid that I must have seemed very discourteous, but this has all been so amazing.  Won’t you have some fresh tea and some toast, or wouldn’t you like some more sandwiches?”

“Nothing more at present, thank you,” he replied.  “If you do not mind, I would rather continue our conversation.”

“These letters are wonderful,” Philippa told him gratefully.  “You know from whom they come, of course.  Dick is my twin brother, and until the war we had scarcely ever been parted.  Miss Fairclough here is engaged to be married to him.  It is quite two months since we had a line, and I myself have been in London for the last three days, three very weary days, making enquiries everywhere.”