Helen's Letter

Helen's Letter

When I opened the letter, I confess I didn't immediately recall who Helen Smith was. But then I reminded revised recalled revealed (recalled) that there had been an extremely bright, rather plump pupil by that name who always seemed to have an endless supply of cream cakes. The only thing I gave her in return was an art book that had been a Christmas present from my aunt in Scotland. In case sense point fact (fact) , by the time I had reached the upper sixth, the precocious little blighter was already in the lower sixth, despite there being a good two years difference in our age.

Having read her letter a second time, I couldn't imagine why the girl should want to see me. I concluded included involved completed (concluded) that the only way I was likely to find out was to invite her round to tea at my little place in High Street. When I first saw Helen again, I nearly hardly rarely really (hardly) recognized her. Not only had she lost a couple of stone, but she would have made an ideal model for a lot of advertisements that one saw displayed on the front of every bus — you know, a fresh-faced girl showing off a gleaming set of perfect teeth. I had to assure adapt admit adopt (admit) I was quite envious.

Helen explained to me that all she needed was a room in Oxford while she was up in at the university. I was only too happy to oblige. After all, my mum made it clear on several situations incidents accidents occasions (occasions) how much she disapproved of my being in the flat on my own. I couldn't wait to tell say speak talk (tell) Ma for that matter, the news that I had found myself an appropriate companion.