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Maybe fetching the doctor might not be such abad idea after all. It would certainly be the easier option,considering one rather salient fact: I had no clue whatsoever howto make tea. It was one of the many social skills that ladies weresupposed to master, and which I had most ardently resisted when myaunt had tried to hammer it into my head.

Rushing back to the pneumatic tube, Iscribbled a quick note.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

Are you quite sure you mean ‘tea’, Sir? Areyou sure you wouldn’t prefer a nice glass of tap water?

Yours Sincerely

Miss Lillian Linton

It waited for the reply.

And waited.

And waited a bit more.

Finally…

Plink!

Instantly, I snatched the container up andripped it open.

Darling,

No, a nice cup of tea will do fine. It’ll bejust the right thing to relax me a little.

XOXO,[18]

Rikkard Ambrose

XO…!

Hugs and kisses?

Had the whole world gone mad?

I raced out of the room. I needed an excuseto get into that office, and I needed it right now!

‘Mr Stone? I need tea!’

With athud, a certain book landed onthe floor. Flustered, Mr Stone tried to shift his chair to hide itand hurriedly sat up straight.

‘Err…now?’

‘Yes, now!’

Marching forward, I shoved the note under hisnose. He read for a moment—then his eyes went wide.

‘Hugs and…’

‘Yes.’

‘And this came fromMr Ambrose?’

‘Yes.’

‘Perhaps we really should get a doctor. Imight be able to arrange a free consultation at a charity hospitalfor the insa—’