say any more. But I never had a compliment I liked better; and I
didn't mind a bit when Mrs. Senter remarked that anyone would fancy I
was a professional.

I was almost sorry to go on at last, though Emily was worrying lest we
should get no lunch. But we saw beautiful things as we spun toward
Lulworth, rushing so swiftly along an empty road that the hedges roared
past us like dark cataracts. It was thrilling, and showed what Apollo
could do when he chose. If there had been a soul on the road, of course
we wouldn't have done such deeds; though I must say, from what I've
seen, if you creep along so as not to kick up a dust and annoy people,
they aren't at all grateful, but only scorn instead of hating you, and
think you can't go faster, or you would. Still, you have the
consciousness of innocence. One thing we saw was a delightful Tudor
house, called Creech Grange; and the ancestor of the man who owns it
built Bond Street. I'm sure I don't know why, but I'm glad he did. We
took the valley way on purpose to see the Grange, instead of going over
Ring Hill and other windy heights, but it was worth the sacrifice.

Lulworth Castle, which we passed, is rather like Graylees, Sir Lionel
said; so now I wish more than ever that I could see Graylees, for
Lulworth is fine and feudal. But I shall have burst like a bubble before
the time comes for Graylees.

There! I have brought you with us to Lulworth Cove, at last--the
adorable little place where, at this moment, as I told you at the
beginning of my letter, I'm sitting on the beach among red and green
fishing boats.

You wouldn't dream of Lulworth's existence until it suddenly breaks on
you, and you see the blue bay lying asleep in the arms of giant rocks,
which appear to have had a violent convulsion without disturbing the
baby sheet of water. I suppose they were angry with the world for
finding out their secret; for it has found out, and loves to come to
Lulworth Cove. However, the place contrives to _look_ as unknown as
ever, as if only some lazy gulls and a few fishermen mending
lobster-pots had ever heard a hint of it. There's a narrow street; a few
pretty old cottages; a comfortable hotel where we had crabs, divine
though devilled, and _omelette au rhum_ floating in flames of the blue I
should like my eyes to be when angry; there's a post-office,
and--nothing else that I can think of, except circling hills, a golden
sweep of beach, and sea of ethereal azure creaming again