with consummate skill and incredible expense.

I tasted _Peche Melba_ to-day, for the first time. It made me wish for
you. But it didn't seem to go at all with gray serge and a cotton
blouse. I ought to have been a Gorgeous Being, with silk linings.

How am I to support the shopping ordeal? Supposing Mrs. Norton chooses
me things (oh horror!). They're sure to be hideous, but they may be
costly. As it says in an English society paper which Madame de Maluet
takes: "What should A. do?"

If only Telepathy were a going concern, you would answer that Hard Case
for

Your poor, puzzled

"A.," alias "E."

P. S. Nothing more heard or seen of the White Girl's Burden, Richard of
that ilk. I was afraid of his turning up at the Grand Hotel in Paris, or
even at the station to "see us off," but he didn't. He has disappeared
into space, and is welcome to the whole of it. I should nearly have
forgotten him, if I didn't wonder sometimes what his mysterious
profession is.

VI

SIR LIONEL PENDRAGON TO COLONEL P. R. O'HAGAN, AT DROITA, EAST BENGAL

_Ritz Hotel, London_,
_July 8th_

My Dear Pat: You were right, I was wrong. It _is_ good to be in
England again. Your prophecy has come true. The dead past has pretty
well buried its dead. A few dry bones show under the surface here and
there. I let them lie. Is thy servant a dog, that he should dig up
buried bones!

As you know, I was ass enough to dread arriving in Paris. I dreaded it
throughout the whole voyage. When I got to Marseilles, I found a wire
from Emily, saying she would meet me in Paris. Ass again! I had an idea
she was putting herself to that trouble with the kindly wish to "stand
by," and take my thoughts off old days. But I might have known better,
knowing that good, practical little soul. She had quite another object.
Came to break the news of a fire at Graylees; but it seems not to have
done any serious damage, except to have wiped out a few modern frills.
They can easily be tacked on again. I'm glad it was no worse, for I love
Graylees. I might have turned out a less decent sort of chap than I am
if it hadn't been for the prospect of inheriting it sooner or later. One
has to live up to certain things, and Graylees was an incentive.

You asked me to tell you if Emily had changed. Well, she has. It's
eighteen years since you saw her; fifteen since I did. I must tell you
honestly, you'd have no sentimental regrets if you could see her now.
You will remembe