Ingrid,

Two dances upon Antigone's ridiculous dancefloor and no small amount of time spent in company last evening, and yet still no offer of marriage from Mr. Macmillan. I believe I can read his intentions, believe him to be rather enamored of me, but the waiting—though loath to put it on paper, I must confess I am not getting any younger!

Dearest, might I prevail upon you to hold a dinner party? Myself and Liberty of course, and Mr. Macmillan, but also the eldest Mr. Macnair and perhaps Mr. Enoch Rosier—if Mr. Macmillan is not to be stirred into action, I may have to redistribute the eggs I have placed in his basket. And your own guests, naturally; how I envy you your freedom to host upon a whim!

I should be very much in your debt.

Affectionately,