it, so
afraid it might seem that he had taken advantage. I assured him that, if
anything, it was the other way round, and at last he yielded. The car
really is a beauty. You can put a big trunk on behind, and there are
places for tools and books and lunch, and no end of little things, in a
box under the cushions we sit on, and even under the floor. You never
saw anything so convenient. He showed me everything, and explained the
machinery, but that part I forgot as fast as he talked, so I can't tell
you now exactly on what principle the engine works. When it came to a
talk about price I thought he would say two thousand five hundred
dollars at least (that's five hundred pounds, isn't it?) for such a
splendid chariot. I know Jimmy Payne gave nearly twice that for the one
he brought over to New York last year, and it wasn't half as handsome;
but--would you believe it?--the man seemed quite shy at naming one
thousand five hundred dollars. It was a second-hand car now, he
insisted, though he had only had it three months, and he wouldn't think
of charging more. I felt as if I were playing the poor fellow a real
Yankee trick when I cried "Done!"

Well, now, Dad, there's my confession. That's all up to date, except
that the Duke, who isn't a duke, but plain Mr. Reginald Cecil-Lanstown
("plain" seems hardly the word for all that, does it?) is to bring _my_
car, late his, to Claridge's on Monday, and I'm to pay. You dear, to
have given me such an unlimited letter of credit! He's got to get me a
_chauffeur_ who can speak French and knows the Continent, and Aunt Mary
and I will do the rest of our London shopping on an automobile--my own,
if you please. Then, when we are ready to cross the Channel, we'll drive
to Newhaven, ship the car to Dieppe, and after that I hope we shan't so
much as _see_ a railroad train, except from a long distance. Automobiles
for ever, say I, mine in particular.

I'm writing this after we have come back to Cobham, and while we wait
for the fly which is to take us to the station. Aunt Mary says I am mad.
She is quite "off" her Duke now, and thinks he is a fraud. By the way,
when that photo is developed I'll send it to you, so that you can see
your daughter's new gee-gee. Here comes the cab, so good-bye, you old
saint. From

Your sinner,
Molly.