But here I
don't think they would be bothered; and they only stay in their houses
for so short a period, rushing from New York to Newport and the country
to Europe, so none of the places feel like home. That is the only
possible thing which spoils this one,--otherwise it is perfection. But
then you see they could start fair by building it themselves; they had
not to inherit a huge castle from their forefathers, with difficult
drains to combat and an insufficient water supply, to say nothing of
the trail of the serpent of fearful early Victorian taste over even the
best things of the eighteenth century. The _horrors_ that now live in
the housemaids' bed rooms which I collected from the royal suite at
Valmond!
It was a perfect joy to get here into peace, and we were allowed to
rest quietly until dinner, and Valerie came and talked to me while I
lay on the sofa. She said her husband was "crazy" about me, and she
thought it would do him a great deal of good for me to play with him a
little, and that she was crazy about Tom; so I said if she could find
someone for Octavia it seemed a nice little chasse croisee and we ought
all to be very happy together. Then she said she had someone coming
down by a later train who ought to be just Octavia's affair, and who in
the world do you think it is, Mamma? The Vicomte! Gaston de la
Tremors!!!!
Think of what Harry will say when he hears! Isn't it too lovely? He
will of course believe I made a rendezvous with him, considering the
furious rage he was in when I got the Vicomte's letter.
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