night, he hinted darkly of most exciting events in which we were intimately concerned, which would in all probability take place at Cannes, if we could only arrive there soon enough. I couldn't get him to tell me what they were, but I fancy Aunt Mary is at least partly in his confidence. She wouldn't betray him, but she assured me that to miss the treat in store for us would mean lasting regret. And she was bursting with importance and mystery. Now I don't believe much in Jimmy's show; nothing of his ever does come off, except his hat when he drives. Still, a little of Jimmy's society goes a long way in the intimate association of a motoring journey; what it would be in married life I don't know and don't want to know; and as I too began to think I shouldn't be sorry to get to the Riviera, I consented to be whirled through some lovely places, just to satisfy Aunt Mary and Jimmy's craving for haste, and lack of love for ancient architecture.
We arrived at Marseilles, Jimmy doing well. I would see something of the place, for I was true to my Monte Cristo, and insisted upon having a glimpse of the Château d'If. We got in at night, and stayed at a delightful hotel. Early in the morning I was up, and rather than I should take Brown as courier, Jimmy (who resents Brown) was up early too. We had breakfast together—for Aunt Mary stayed in bed—and went out to walk. But it wasn't like going about with the Lightning Conductor, who knows everything and has been everywhere before. We had to inquire our way every minute, and shouldn't have known which things were worth
