and to be
pretty is to be in the harmony of it. Though, perhaps--only perhaps,
mind!--I'm glad I'm not a regular beauty. It would be such a
responsibility in the matter of wearing one's clothes, and doing one's
hair, and never getting tanned or chapped.

And I love to be thin, and alive--alive, with my soul in proportion to
my body, like a hand in a glove, not like a seed in a big apple. But
isn't this funny talk, in the midst of describing Exeter? It's because
of the reaction from misery to ecstasy that I'm so bubbly. I can't stop;
but luckily it didn't come on in Exeter, because the delightful, queer
old streets aren't at all suitable to bubble in. It's impertinent to be
excessively young there, especially in the beautiful cathedral close,
where it is so calm and dignified, and the rooks, who are very, very
old, do nothing but caw about their ancestors. I think some curates
ought to turn into rooks when they die. They would be quite happy.

Our hotel, as I said, was fascinating, though Mrs. Norton fell once or
twice, as there were steps up and down everywhere, and Dick bumped his
forehead on a door. (I wasn't at all sorry for him.) Mrs. Senter said,
if we'd stopped long she would have got "cottage walk," and as she
already had motor-car face and bridge eye, she thought the combination
would be _trop fort_. If she weren't Dick's aunt, and if she weren't so
determined to flirt with Sir Lionel without his knowing what she's at,
and if she didn't make little cutting speeches to me when he isn't
listening, I think I should find her amusing.

The only things I didn't like at the hotel were the eggs; which looked
so nice, quite brown, and dated the morning you had them, on their
shells, but tasting mediaeval. I wonder if eggs can be post-dated, like
cheques? As for the other eatables, there was very little taste in them,
mediaeval or otherwise. I do think ice-cream, for instance, ought to
taste like something, if it's only hair oil. And the head waiter had
such mournful-looking hair!

I never got a talk alone with Sir Lionel in Exeter, because though he
tried once or twice, with the air of having a painful duty to
accomplish, I was afraid he was going to ask me about Dick, and I just
felt I couldn't bear it, so avoided him, or instantly tacked myself on
to Emily or someone. I think Emily approves of my running to her,
whenever threatened by man's society, because she thinks the instinctive
desire to be protected from an