"Where am I to take it to?" asked Sheppard. Manning’s handwriting had an air of being clear without being easily legible; it was large and rather roundish, with a lack of definition about the letters and a disposition to treat the large ones as liberal-minded people nowadays treat opinions, as all amounting to the same thing really—a yearssmoothed boyish rather than an adult hand. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. She lost it in the Mint. ’ ‘Don’t call me by name,’ she snapped. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. . “Why?” he asked, suavely. like, well, um, you’re kind of looking just a little bit homely lately.
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