All the guests were seated around the table when Muriel Arbuthnot strode into the room, clutching the morning newspaper. She extracted a long white envelope from the pile and handed it to her oldest chum.
             A puzzled look came over Anna Clairmonts face. Who could possible know that she was spending the weekend with the Arbuthnots? Then she saw a familiar handwritting and had to smile at his ingenuity. She hoped her husband Robert, who was seated at the far end of the table, hadn't noticed, and was relieved to to see that he had remained engrossed in his copy of The Times.
             Anna was trying to wedge her thumb into the corner of the envelope, when suddenly he glanced acros at her and smiled. She returned the smile, dropped the envelope in her lap, picked up her fork and jabbed it into a lukewarm mushroom.
             She made no attempt to retrieve the letter until her husband had disappeared back behind his paper. Once he had turned to thie business section, she placed the envelope on her right hand side, picked up the butter knife and slipped it into the thumbed corner. Slowly, she began to slit open the envelope. (Having completed the task she returned the knife to its place bye the side of the butterdish before making her next move). Once again she glanced across in the direction of her husband to check that he was still hidden behind his newpaper. He was. She held down the envelope with her left hand, while she carefully extracted the letter with her right. (She then placed the envelope in the bag by her side). She looked down at the familiar Basilden Bond cream note paper, folded in three. Once more casual glance in Robert's direction; as he remained out of sight she unfolded the two-page letter. No date, no address, the first page, as always, written on continuation paper.
             "My darling Titania." The first night of the dream at Strathford, followed by the first night they had slept together. Two firsts on the same night, he...