ne concerned. I must be on the
spot; but very unluckily I cannot be there for some days to come. The
weather in Rome is really awful, and I have contracted something which I
am afraid is influenza. With the best intentions, I cannot go to the
rescue until the doctor gives me leave. I shall probably still be here
when Molly arrives. Meanwhile, my dear Mr. Randolph, I have thought best
to put you on your guard.

Yours faithfully and sincerely,
J. F. Payne.

MOLLY RANDOLPH TO HER FATHER

Hotel de Russie, Rome,
_January 2_.

Darling Dad,

Forgive me for that inadequate little note written yesterday to wish you
a Happy New Year; but short as it was, there was enough love in it to
make the letter double postage. We have been working so hard at pleasure
since that I haven't had time for anything except the various cables
which from day to day I have flung to you from our chariot of fire as we
sped half-way down the long leg of Italy--that's pink on my schoolroom
map at home. Somehow, I've always thought of Italy as being pink, ever
since I first hunted it out on the map; and it is still gloriously
_couleur de rose_ to the eyes of my body and mind.

How splendid it is not to be disappointed in something that you've
looked forward to all your life, isn't it? But I don't think I am the
kind of girl who is disappointed in _real_ things--nature's real things,
I mean. People have often said to me, "Oh, you will be disappointed in
Europe, if you look forward to it so much." But I believe such creatures
have no imagination. With imagination you have the glamour of the past
and all the wonderful things that have happened in a place, as well as
the mere beauty of the present. But then, without imagination one must
just expect to have one's poor little soul go bare, and to live on all
the "cold pieces" of life, never to taste the nectar and ambrosia of the
gods; never to know the thrill of sympathy, or any other thrill that
isn't purely physical.

I'm intoxicated with all I have seen and am seeing--which must excuse
the harangue. And I'm intoxicated with the joy of driving the car.
Lately I have been rivalling the Lightning Conductor, for my wrist is
quite well again. The microbe of automobilism has entered into my blood.
Yes, I'm