letter from my Adrienne. It has been
forwarded from Kidd's Pines. What can have happened to this poor letter
I do not know, but it has been a long time on the way. I see it is
written just after the last one, which I have had--it is two weeks now;
so it brings me not much of news except that you like the American
cousin more even than before, and a crisis draws near. All my love and
good wishes go to you, cherie. Already it must be that things are
settling themselves for you and your Marcel (I am sure he _is_ your
Marcel!), and the wishes will arrive late. Perhaps you will send me a
cable; and it may come at any time, for you will be at home with dear
Madame your mother and not with the Sisters. But I shall not really
_expect_ the message by telegram, for in France one does not send cables
as one does in America. One thinks twice. It is an important decision to
take.

As for me, all remains as when I wrote you last. I thought at first that
I could not go on being engaged, but would have to break. Now I find it
too difficult to do this, though I have not saved my poor Larry from his
sacrifice. He bears up well, but that is because we are _en
automobile_, and there are changes of scene, and nice people to make him
forget. He is wonderful about forgetting, but I fear he may collapse
when by and by he must look reality in the face. It is not always a
pretty face!

I sometimes forget, too, for a while, but it is more difficult, for a
girl cannot choose her own companions as a man can. I lie awake at night
thinking of the future, because if I am to help Larry in a big, useful
way I must marry--not just go on being engaged. Much money is to be
settled on me, and I will give all to Larry. I feel as if I should not
like to take any for myself. You and I used to say we should not let
ourselves be married off to men we could not love, as so many of the old
girls at school have done. But circumstances can be very strong. With
me, there are complications. It will not be fair to dear Larry to speak
of them. I do not see how they can arrange themselves without my
marrying. Still, I try to think of the present and not of the future. I
have this tour before me. It is not perfect, but at least I cannot be a
_Mrs._ till it is over!

Here at Newport we visit friends of Larry's, all of us except the nice
Tom, Dick, and Harry I told you of; a Senator Collinge, Mrs. Shuster's
friend; the Goodrich family, who are so large and handsome, and