Epilogue
Adried wildflower slipped out of the letter from Yorkshire and fluttered to the carpet of the spartan London flat. The doctor picked it up with careful fingers, then went back to the letter:
I know the past year or so has been rather brutal for you.
Please come and see us, just as soon as you can, if not sooner!
I know it won’t do to tell you how overworked you are, or remind you of the tonic qualities of the wind over the moor, and how we’ll blow all the London cobwebs out of your mind.
This time, I’m asking for us, and not for you.
It’s been too long since you were here, and the primroses are out. Iggy brings me little posies of them. Dolly is like you—far too unsentimental for her own good—and would never dream of doing such a thing.
You remember, don’t you, that primroses always, always make me think of you, and of that time I wanted nothing more than to have you as my friend?
Please, Gwen, do be a dear and come home.
All my love,
Edith