.
"Don't send carriage. Prefer stay here to driving in such storm. Feel
sure you are safe without us."

I knew the carriage was already ordered, but thinking it might not have
started, I scribbled a line in pencil to Brown, and enclosed the
telegram. Aunt Mary is such a coward in thunderstorms; but it was silly
of her, for it couldn't have gone on thundering all night. I was rather
cross, but I had to laugh when I thought of Jimmy. He must have been
wild.

If I'd known in time, perhaps I should have stayed ignominiously in my
bedroom, but I wouldn't make a change then; it seemed such a tempest in
a teapot. So when I was ready I went down as if nothing had happened,
and looked around for Brown where I'd told him to meet me at half-past
eight, in the hall. My goodness! I _was_ surprised when I saw him in
evening dress--a jolly dinner-jacket and a black tie. He might have been
a prince. I wouldn't have said a word if I'd stopped to think; but I
exclaimed on the impulse, and was dreadfully ashamed of myself, for he
got rather red. He said quite humbly that he hadn't wished to discredit
me, since I'd done him the honour of allowing him to serve me in a
somewhat different capacity this evening (that was a nice way of putting
it, wasn't it?), so he had decided to wear a suit of clothes which Mr.
John Winston had left him; and he hoped I wasn't displeased.

After all, why should I have been when you come to think of it? So we
dined at a little table all to ourselves, with pretty shaded candles and
some lovely flowers. People were already beginning to leave the room,
and nobody noticed anything strange about us as a couple; we appeared
just like everybody else, only rather better looking, if I do say it
myself. I had a very interesting talk with Brown, and he told me several
things about his life, though I had to _draw_ them out, as he is more
modest than Jimmy Payne. He is far above his work, though he does it so
well. I wish so much you could do something nice for him. Can't you?

This is the next morning, and I am writing in my room, waiting for the
car to arrive. Aunt Mary and Jimmy will come in it; they've telegraphed
again.

I am looking forward to the Riviera now, but I have such a queer,
unsettled feeling--sort of half sad, without knowing why, which is
stupid, as I'm having a splendid time. I suppose it's my wrist which has
made me nervous.

Your loving