her as a young girl,
asked her down here.

She has made a dead set at Jack, and I feel (I can't help it) that he
has fallen a captive to her bow and spear, for his manner towards me
has entirely changed. He is not my darling, loving Jack, at all, but
merely a polite friend.

Mrs. Vivian must be blind not to see what is going on. But I cannot
enlighten her, and what am I to do? Do give me your advice, dear Amy?

Ever your affectionate
ROSE.

_From Miss Amy Conway to Miss Rose Dacre_.

ALFORD STREET.
TUESDAY.

My dearest Child,

Just got yours. You ask my advice, and to use a phrase of my brother
Tom's, "I give it you in once." Don't be a little goose and bother your
pretty little head. I am older than you, and I understand women of the
Mrs. Tenterden type. They amuse men for a time, and very often take
them captive, but in nineteen cases out of twenty the prisoner escapes.
In other words, they are not the women who men care to marry. Fancy
your Jack, for instance, preferring a _rusee_ garrison hack, like Mrs.
Tenterden, to your own sweet self. It is absolutely ridiculous.

Do nothing and say nothing. Don't worry yourself and all will come
right. The temporary infatuation will pass away, and Mr. Vivian will
love you all the better afterwards. You will see if I am not right.

So be comforted, darling Rose.
Ever your loving
AMY.

_From Mrs. Tenterden to Mrs. Montague Mount_, 170A, _Ebury Street,
S.W._

YACHT "MARIE,"
SOUTHAMPTON.
_July 23rd_, 1901.

DEAREST LILY,

I promised to let you know how I got on, and to write as soon as there
was anything to write about. So here goes. I am on board Jack Vivian's
yacht, and a ripper it is. That is to say, I am on the yacht in the
day, but sleep at the South Western Hotel. I hate sleeping on board a
yacht, and never do so if I can help it. It may benefit one's
health--daresay that it does--but I do like to take my rest on shore.
Well, now, as to my news. I have made a great impression on Mr. Vivian.
He is the easiest man to deal with I ever met in my life, and he is as
putty in my hands. That stupid girl, Miss Dacre, to whom he is supposed
to be engaged--I say supposed because he does not seem to be quite
clear about it himself--hasn't got a chance with me. What Jack Vivian
could have ever seen in her I can't guess. She is the usual type of
English Miss who can say "Papa and Mamma," and that is about all. I can
see that she loathes me, and I don't wonder at