as the blood of the de Moncourts in his
veins, what does the rest matter? If I were in your place, dear
Adrienne, I would not worry on the idea that _our_ Moncourt may be this
_mauvais sujet_ of a Paul Jean Honore Marcel de Moncourt you mention,
who vanished in his youth, and has so long been counted as dead.
Probably that one is quite altogether dead, and our Moncourt has no
lines with the de Moncourts of France. He perhaps took the name because
it has a noble sound. That is one of the things one doesn't ask a man,
is it not? But if it is important for your happiness, my Adrienne, I can
perhaps arrive at it through Mr. Storm, who must know all, and learn,
too, if there is a son of our Moncourt we have not heard of yet.

And now for myself again!

It is so gay and such an amusement to have a whole band of young men
paying attentions to me, little _me_, who but the other day did not even
raise the eyes to a man in taking promenades, without a bad mark on my
conduct! Larry does not object at all. He laughs. Girls are born to love
the flirt, he says, and indeed, dear Adrienne, he loves it himself! He
makes it with all the ladies, even the fat Mrs. Shuster of whom I have
written. But that is his manner. I do not inquiet myself for him, not
more than he does for me.

At present he is at home, because, though he is a great boy, he has you
can't think what a sense of duty. It is for this he stays at Kidd's
Pines to welcome new visitors while I am away _en automobile_ with some
of our guests, and chaperoned by dear Molly Winston.

Apropos, it is Molly Winston who gives me courage that life can after
all be full of pleasant things and good endings, for she and Jack go on
having romance and grand adventures. She believes that if "_you want
things enough_," they come to you sooner or later. She is a very nice
chaperon to have.

Three dear boys are in love with me, not enough to hurt them, but enough
to make me pleasure and themselves, too, all fighting together and
pretending to be angry if I am more kind to one than another. Also there
is always Mr. Caspian. He has now asked me what we used to call "_The_
question"; and in America it is done to the girl herself, as we so often
read, not to the father or mother. But, it seems, he spoke first to
Larry, almost in the French way. When I have answered no, I was too
young (that is the best to say when you are caught by surprise and wish
not to offend). He told me that Larry wished