ving at last made up her mind to marry Richard, she
may not care for him as much as she did. He must be a fine fellow.
I'm looking forward tremendously to his coming. Monica was
perfectly delightful yesterday, and grew quite excited in her
nunlike way over the ultimate decoration of Plashers Mead. Dear
me, what taste you all have got, and what a very great deal you've
taught me! You must most of all forget that I ever said a word
against your sisters. They have really equipped me in a way with a
point of view towards art. I tried to tell Monica so yesterday
afternoon. In fact, we got on very well together. In a way, you
know, she almost appreciates you more than Margaret does. You
represent her hope, her ideal of the world. Worldly one, I must
say good night. Tell Miss Verney with my love that all her cats
send their best respects and compliments and that Bellerophon
particularly requests that his mistress will bring back whatever
fish is in season at Scarborough. Oh, the funniest thing I've
forgotten to tell you! Miss Peasey was chased by some bullocks
across the big field behind the orchard! She was too priceless
about it when she got home.

Pauline began to think it was impossible for her ever to have had the
least worry in the course of her engagement. This was the first time she
had been parted from Guy for more than a week during the whole of a
year, and there was something very reassuring in such an opportunity to
regard him like this so disinterestedly, to find that the separation was
having the traditional effect and to be positive that she was going to
meet him again at the end of April more in love than ever. Nevertheless,
she was always aware of being grateful for the repose from problems, and
she did once or twice play with the idea of having perhaps made a
mistake in objecting to his going abroad. It was on occasions of doubt
like this that Pauline would try to impress Miss Verney with what
existence had already meant to her.

"I'm feeling so old, Miss Verney."

"Old, my dear? Oh, that cannot be true," exclaimed her friend.

"Falling very much in love does make one feel old," Pauline declared.

"Let me see," Miss Verney went on, "let me try to remember how I felt.
My impression is now that when I was in love I felt much younger than I
do at present, but perhaps that is natural, for it is very nearly thirty
years