31st January, 1894

C—

Mother is going to insist you join us for a dinner party on Friday next. Of course, I should as always be delighted by your charming company, but I would not be doing my sisterly duty if I let you respond without knowing: also on the guest list is some pre-season debutante she is determined is perfect for you (in that horribly bland way all of Mother's "perfect" candidates seem to be). Not enough for Magnus, of course; he is sensible enough to choose his own wife, at least until she finishes with one of us.