m you thought jolly and
good-natured, though, somehow, I never got on with him very well. I
always had the feeling he was trying to read me, and I do dislike that
sort of thing in a man. It ruins human intercourse, and takes away all
natural desire to flirt.

You ask me how I endure Emily Norton. Well, as I sit beside Sir Lionel
in the car, I don't need to bother with her much in the daytime. She
hates bridge, and thinks playing for money wrong in most circumstances,
but considers it her duty to please her brother's guests; and as she
never wins, anyhow, it needn't affect her conscience. I tell her that
_I_ always give my winnings to charity, and didn't think it necessary to
add that, to my idea, charity should not only begin at home, but end
there, unless its resources were unlimited. The poor, dull thing has
that kind of self-conscious religion that sends her soul trotting every
other minute to look in the glass, and see that it hasn't smudged
itself. So trying! Once she asked me what I did for _my_ soul? I longed
to tell her I took cod-liver oil, or Somebody's Fruit Salt, but didn't
dare, on account of Sir Lionel. And she has such a conceited way of
saying, when speaking of the future: "If the Lord spares me till next
year, I will do so and so." As if He were in immediate need of her, but
might be induced to get on without her for a short time!

One would know, by the way she screws up her hair, that she could never
have felt a temptation. But I shall not let myself be troubled much with
her if I marry Sir Lionel. She can go back to her doctor and her
curates, and be invited for Christmas to Graylees, which, by the way, I
hope to inspect when we have finished this tour.

I am looking quite lovely in my motoring things, and enjoying myself
very much, on the whole.

Devonshire I found too hot for this time of the year, but the scenery is
pretty. I had no idea what a jolly little river the Dart is; and
Dartmouth is rather quaint. For those who are keen on old things, I
suppose the Butter Market would be interesting; but I can't really see
why, because things happened in certain places hundreds of years ago,
one should stand and stare at walls or windows, or fireplaces. The
things _must_ have happened somewhere! Although Charles the Second, for
instance, may have been great fun to know, and one would have enjoyed
flirting with him, now that he's been dead and out of reach for ages,
he's of no importance to me.

We