, by the way,
that I would make two of her. Evidently I once had a prophetic soul. I
only wish I had it still, so I might see beforehand what will happen to
the Me-ness of Ellaline in the next few weeks. Anyhow, whatever comes, I
expect to be supported by the consciousness that I'm paying a debt of
gratitude as perhaps such a debt was never paid before.

Of course I shall have a perfectly horrid time. Not only shall I be
wincing under the degrading knowledge that I'm a base pretender, but I
shall be wretchedly homesick and bored within an inch of my life. I
shall be, in the sort of environment Ellaline describes, like a mouse in
a vacuum--a poor, frisky, happy, out-of-doors field-mouse, caught for an
experiment. When the experiment is finished I shall crawl away, a
decrepit wreck. But, thank heaven, I can crawl to You, and you will
nurse me back to life. We'll talk everything over, for hours on end, and
I'll be able to abuse the Dragon to my heart's content. I know you'll
let me do that, provided I don't use naughty words, or, if any, disguise
them daintily in a whisper.

Ellaline and I have discussed plans and possibilities, and if all goes
as she expects (I don't see why it shouldn't), I ought to be freed from
the unpleasant role of understudy in five or six weeks. The instant my
chains are broken by a telegram from the bride saying, "Safely married,"
or words to that effect, I shall do "all my possible" to fold, my tent
like an Arab and silently steal--not to say sneak--away from the lair of
the Dragon, without his opening a scaly red eye to the dreadful reality,
until I'm beyond his power.

It must be either that or the most awful scene with him--a Regular Row.
He, saying what he thinks of my deception; me, defending myself and the
real Ellaline by saying what I think of his general beastliness. If it
came to that, I might in my rage wax unladylike; so perhaps, of the two
evils, the lesser would be the sneak act--_n'est ce pas_? Well, I shall
see when the time comes.

In five or six weeks I had thought, in any case, of allowing you to
leave Champel-les-Bains, should you grow too restive lacking my society.
I thought of proposing by then, if you were sufficiently braced by Swiss
air, milk, and honey and Champel douches, that we should join forces at
a cheap but alluring farmhouse somewhere.

That idea may still fit in rather well, mayn't it? But if, for any
unforeseen reason, I should have to stay sizzling on th