ns and some green and blue ones, etc.--but for Jack and me
it will have a drawback. People used to be torn to death by wild horses.
That's not done in the best circles now; but it's perfectly admissible,
alas, to be talked to death by wild aunts.

I'm charmed that you're so interested in Patsey Moore and Peter Storm.
The latter, as I wrote, has developed into _her_ "Lightning Conductor."
Indeed, in some ways Jack and he are alike: for you know Jack "Brown-ed"
himself in order to conduct me; and I can't help thinking that our
Stormy Petrel isn't as Stormy as he's painted. Now I know him so well, I
don't let my mind dwell on the possibility of his being less worthy of
our intense interest than he seems. If there's anything hidden, it's
"buried treasure," such as we hope against hope may exist at Kidd's
Pines.

It's not very long, as the crow flies--I mean the post--since I wrote
you last; but I do think more things can happen in America to the square
minute than anywhere else in the world. Especially at Kidd's Pines! It's
like living in a "movie" when they are running the reels off fast. Why,
our reels go so quickly you hardly know what's happened to the "walking
men and women", and it's even difficult to tell the hero from the
villain.

That sounds frivolous, but it's serious really. I should be very sad if
I weren't hoping that Jack and Peter Storm and I may be able to combine
together and stop things from going all to bits.

At present _everything_ to do with "heart interest" is _horrid_--except
some things that are funny. And the people they're happening to can't
see the fun in them as the outsiders--Jack and I--can. Naturally there
_would_ be heaps of heart interest, all over the place, wherever Patty
was; and that would be all right if Larry weren't simply followed around
by it too, the way actor-managers are by the spotlight. When we were
doing our delicious motor run around Long Island, getting acquainted
with the old whalers, and Indian chieftains, and golfers and
millionairesses, it was sweet to see how Pat was unconsciously taming
our Stormy Petrel to eat out of her hand. Even Jack saw it happening, so
it must have been pretty obvious, because men never _can_ see other
people's love stories going on under their noses. I knew as well as if
he'd told me, that Peter Storm would rather be torpedoed again than fall
in love and settle down. Besides though none but the brave deserve the
fair, few but the rich ever