room, and nobody noticed anything strange about us as a couple; we appeared just like everybody else, only rather better looking, if I do say it myself. I had a very interesting talk with Brown, and he told me several things about his life, though I had to draw them out, as he is more modest than Jimmy Payne. He is far above his work, though he does it so well. I wish so much you could do something nice for him. Can't you?
This is the next morning, and I am writing in my room, waiting for the car to arrive. Aunt Mary and Jimmy will come in it; they've telegraphed again.
I am looking forward to the Riviera now, but I have such a queer, unsettled feeling—sort of half sad, without knowing why, which is stupid, as I'm having a splendid time. I suppose it's my wrist which has made me nervous.
Your loving
Molly.
