"Will anybody be rich after this is over?"
"My grandfather will," said Sophia with assurance. "No Soak-the-rich tactics would have any effect on him. He'd just soak the soakers.
"I wonder," she added, "if you'll like him?"
"Do you?" I asked.
"Better than anyone in the world," said Sophia.
Two
It was over two years before I returned to England. They were not easy years. I wrote to Sophia and heard from her fairly frequently.
Her letters, like mine, were not love letters. They were letters written to each other by close friends - they dealt with ideas and thoughts and with comments on the daily trend of life. Yet I know that as far as I was concerned, and I believed as far as Sophia was concerned too, our feeling for each other grew and strengthened.
I returned to England on a soft grey day in September. The leaves on the trees were golden in the evening light. There were playful gusts of wind. From the airfield I sent a telegram to Sophia.
"Just arrived back. Will you dine this evening Mario's nine o'clock Charles^ A couple of hours later I was sitting reading the Times; and scanning the Births Marriages and Death column my eye was caught by the name Leonides:
On Sept. 19th, at Three Gables, Swinly Dean, Aristide Leonides, beloved husband of Brenda Leonides 5 in his eighty fifth year. Deeply regretted.
There was another announcement immediately below:
Leonides. Suddenly, at his residence Three Gables, Swinly Dean, Aristide Leonides.
Deeply mourned by his loving children and grandchildren. Flowers to St.
Eldred's Church, Swinly Dean.
I found the two announcements rather curious. There seemed to have been some faulty staff work resulting in overlapping.
But my main preoccupation was Sophia. I hastily sent her a second telegram:
"Just seen news of your grandfather's death.