Isabella is a little put out:
(I reattached her photo to the email just in case the current correspondent hasn't seen it. I say 'current' because the style and length is out of character for the original Umba. As a 'difficult' correspondent I think I have been farmed out to the debt collectors.)
My Dear Umba,
I am so sorry to hear about the death of your father. For some reason I thought he was already dead. Silly me.
I guess this grief would account for the most passionless letter I have ever had the misfortune to receive. Even correspondence from the tax office has more romance.
You call yourself 'my man'. My man, when I find him will be passionate and compassionate. He will say kind and loving things to me. He will hold me and want me with him. He will be a sexual tiger and a sensual cat.
Are you really my man? All you talk of is money.
Yes, I can help you invest your money. I have good contacts with a company that is making DIY cardboard coffins for the Iraqi domestic market. By all accounts it is going to make a real killing. We will need to get in soon.
But more of that later.
Please tell me of your true intentions.
Yours most puzzled,
Isabella.