“'London, August 20th. My dear friend' (you know, Donald has to begin that way, because he didn't like to say Marie-Celeste, and so never called me anything), 'you will be surprised to find I am in London, and, what is more, that I have come up to London as a valet for a gentleman, and the gentleman, let me tell you, is your cousin, Mr. Harris. You know we grew to be good friends all those weeks together down at the Hartleys', at Nuneham!'”