A hedge separated the lawn from the wood, but like everything else in the
little property it had been neglected, and there were large gaps in it.
She turned away from the window--
Yes, there, at last, was what she had come into this room to seek!
Close to the broad, low bed was a writing-table, or, rather, a deal
table, covered with a turkey red cloth, on which lay a large sheet of
ink-stained, white blotting-paper.
Flanking the blotting-paper was a pile of Monsieur Wachner's little red
books--the books in which he so carefully noted the turns of the game at
the Casino, and which served him as the basis of his elaborate gambling
"systems."
Sylvia went up to the writing-table, and, bending over it, began looking
for some notepaper. But there was nothing of the sort to be seen;
neither paper nor envelopes lay on the table.
This was the more absurd, as there were several pens, and an inkpot
filled to the brim.
She told herself that the only thing to do was to tear a blank leaf out
of one of L'Ami Fritz's note-books, and on it write her message of
invitation.
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