ems to have turned blue, a deep, clear azure; and of all
the quaintly picturesque places we have seen, I know at first glimpse
that Dunster would turn out to be the best. Some towns, like some
people, introduce themselves to you in a friendly, charming way, with no
chill reserve, as if they were sure you deserved to see their best side.
It's like that with Dunster, anyhow when you arrive in a motor, and the
first thing you see is the ancient Yarn Market, wooden, octagonal,
perfect. Then before you have recovered from the effect of that, and the
general unspoiledness of everything, you come to the stone porch of the
Luttrell Arms Inn; old and grim, with openings for crossbows with which
I suppose the Abbots of Cleve must have had to defend themselves,
because the house once belonged to them.

If you could see no other town but Dunster, it would be worth while
coming across seas to England. But I suppose I've said that about other
places, haven't I? Well, I can't help it if I have. Dunster is
absolutely perfect--not one false note struck in the quaint music of its
antiquity.

Our sitting room was the Abbot's refectory, splendid with black oak
beams, and a noble ceiling. Its diamond-paned windows look into a
wonderful courtyard, where you expect to see monks walking, or perhaps
cavaliers; and on the hill above the garden, there are earthworks thrown
up by Oliver Cromwell's army during the siege of Dunster Castle--the
"Alnwick of the West." To-morrow, we are to be allowed, as a special
favour, to see the inside of the Castle which towers up so grandly
against the sky. It isn't open to the public; but Sir Lionel knows some
relatives of the owners, so we are to be shown round.

"To-morrow," I say. But if I don't stop at once, and go to bed, it will
be "to-day."

Ever your

Audrie.

XXV

FROM SIR LIONEL PENDRAGON TO COLONEL PATRICK O'HAGAN

_Swan Hotel, Wells_,
_Aug. 20th_

My Dear Pat: What a good fellow you are! Your letter, just
forwarded here, has been like for me a draught from the "cup which
cheers but not----" No, on second thoughts I can't go on with the
quotation "but not inebriates." I rather think the cup has inebriated me
a little. Anyhow, it has made me a bit conceited. I say to myself,
"Well, if this is his opinion of me, why not believe there's something
in it, and do as other men have done before me? He ought to be a judge
of men, and know enough of women to have some idea of the sort of pe