Mrs Bullfinch needs a change and has decided to leave, and as I do not wish to stay on without her I'm going, too. I have had all the literature I can stand and I am sick and tired of art. Mrs Bullfinch does not care about marriage but if you wish to divorce me, she's willing to marry me.
I've hired a new cook instead of Mrs Bullfinch and I hope you will be pleased with her. Mrs Bullfinch and I are living at 411, Kennington Road, S. E.
The silence that followed was broken by Mr Simmons, who said: "You must get him back."
"I will never see him again as long as I live!" Mrs Forrester cried out. But Mr Simmons continued calmly: "I've been your agent for twenty years, and you can consider me one of your best friends. But if you think you can make your living by writing the sort of books you do, I must tell you that you haven't a chance."
"But I can't fight with my cook for him!" Mrs Forrester cried out.
"I was just coming to that," said Mr Simmons coldly. "A dancer or a lady of title wouldn't do you any harm, but a cook would finish you."
"He's quite right", said one of her guests. "The Philatelist must come back".
"You will go and see him tomorrow, won't you?" asked Mr Simmons. Mrs Forrester didn't answer for some time and finally said:
"For my art's sake, not for mine!"
It was rather late in the afternoon of the next day when Mrs Forrester set out on her journey to Kennington Road. Mr Simmons had explained to her by telephone how to get there, and it did not take her long to find the house she wanted. She rang the bell, and when the door opened, she recognised her cook.
(to be continued)