and we had a great time.
Oh, Jill, I'm longing for you to see Irikli. Of course I love Rome,
but I think we'll have to be at Como a lot. Father always liked it the
best, and I think you will. It's so lovely, it makes you want to
shout. It only wants a princess with golden hair to make it fairyland,
and now it's going to have one. Oh, my darling, I'm just living to see
your beautiful face again and your great grave grey eyes. Jill, have
you any idea what wonderful eyes you've got? I say, we are going to be
happy, aren't we? So happy, we shan't have time for anything else.
But I can't wear a body-belt, dear. Not after this. I promised I
would till I came back, but I'm almost melted. I don't think Jonah can
be right. Any way, I'll bet he doesn't wear one._

_Your very loving
PIERS._

My cousin showed us the letter with the artless confidence of a child.

Excepting herself, I don't think any one of us shared the writer's
enthusiasm about Mr. Leslie Trunk. We quite agreed with Signer
Vissochi. It was hard to believe that the man who had instituted such
an iniquitous suit could so swiftly forgive the costly drubbing he had
received, or, as heir-presumptive to the dukedom, honestly welcome the
news of Piers' engagement. Sweetheart Jill, however, knew little of
leopards and their spots. Out of respect for such unconsciousness, we
held our peace. There was no hurry, and Piers could be tackled at our
convenience....

The conversation turned to our impending departure from France.

"I take it," said Jonah, "that we go as we came. If we're going to
Paris for the Grand Prix, there's not much object in stopping there
now. In any event, it 'ld mean our going by train and sending the cars
by sea. I'm not going to drive in Paris for anyone. I'm too old."

After a little discussion, we decided that he was right.

"Same route?" said Adele.

"I think so," said Jonah. "Except that we miss Bordeaux and go by
Bergerac instead."

"Is that shorter or longer?" said Berry. "Not that I really care,
because I wouldn't visit Bordeaux a second time for any earthly
consideration. I've seen a good many poisonous places in my time, but
for inducing the concentrated essence of depression, that moth-eaten
spectre of bustling commerce has them, as the immortal B-B-B-Wordsworth
says, beat to a b-b-b-string-bag."

"I don't seem to remember," said Daphne, "that it was so awful."

"It wasn't," said I. "But the cir