You'll think her pretty. I don't. But
she is my great new friend, and I like her immensely. She rides to
hounds, and talks Italian, and writes for the _Times_."
"Writes for the _Times_!"
"I won't swear that she does, but she could. There's only one other
thing about her. She's engaged to be married."
"To whom?"
"I don't know that I shall answer that question, and indeed I'm not
sure that she is engaged. But there's a man dying for her."
"You must know, if she's your friend."
"Of course I know; but there are ever so many ins and outs, and I
ought not to have said a word about it. I shouldn't have done so to
any one but you. And now we'll go in and have some tea, and go to
bed."
"Go to bed!"
"We always go to bed here before dinner on hunting days. When the
cubbing began Oswald used to be up at three."
"He doesn't get up at three now."
"Nevertheless we go to bed. You needn't if you don't like, and I'll
stay with you if you choose till you dress for dinner. I did know
so well that you'd come back to London, Mr.
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