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But first I had to find her.
I felt overpowering need to go out and start searching- jump on my horse
and gallop in all directions. But that is the classic case given in mathematics
textbooks of how not to find someone who is lost. I had no idea of where to look
for Gwen, but she just possibly might look for me by checking the Raffles-if she
had second thoughts. If she did, I must be here, not out searching at random.
But I could improve the odds. Call the Daily Lunatic; place an
advertisement-place more than one sort: a classified ad, a box ad, and-best!-a
commercial spiel to go out on every terminal with the Lunatic's hourly news
bulletins.
If that doesn't work, what will you do?
Oh, shut up and write the ad!
Gwen, Call me at the Raffles. Richard.
Gwen, Please call me! I'm at the Raffles. Love, Richard.
Dearest Gwen, For the sake of what we had, please call me. I'm at the
Raffles. Love always, Richard.
Gwen, I was wrong. Let me try again. I'm at the Raffles. All my love,
Richard.
I jittered over it, finally decided mat number two was best- changed my
mind; number four held more appeal. Changed it again-the simplicity of number
two was better. Or even number one. Oh, hell, stupid, just place an ad! Ask her
to call; if you have any chance of getting her back, she won't boggle at
how you word it.
Call it in from the hotel office? No, leave a note there, telling Gwen
where you are going and why and what time you'll be back and please wait
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