You're trying to confuse me by changing the timing of your replies, aren't you? (Let the record show: smiling)
Somehow, I do not feel better for having won this match. I confess it that it feels somehow wrong, to have forced you into such an intimacy, even if I came to the conclusion on my own. I suspect this is how Catherine Morland felt in Northanger Abbey when she made her assumption about Henry's mother and was found out.
A half-sister. We share a father, but not a mother, and my parents spent their entire lives running from my father's past. I longed for her to like me, but my curiosity is not generally as well tolerated as it has been by you.
I would send you a book, if I could. I will send one via Mr. Quinn, so you can have it when you return home, which I hope is soon. See, I am perfectly willing to respect your privacy and not press for a physical address. I've been told you don't give that out, you see, and I behave - on occasion.
You do not owe me an apology, Daniel. I'm enjoying our correspondence, even if the tone in my last e-mail was curt. A night ill-spent is no excuse for pulling the skeletons from your closet forcibly.
Feel better and rest, and yes I am mothering again. It is what spinsters not yet turned 60 do.