But I am going to try to keep the sadness out of my scribbles to you,

only now and then it will creep in, and you must forgive it, because

you see it isn't easy to think that we are all here who loved him, and

he, who loved so much to be with us, is somewhere--oh, where is he,

Roger Poole, in that vast infinity which stretches out and out, beyond

the sea, beyond the sky, into eternity?

All day I have been lying in my deck chair, and have let the world go

by. It is clear and cool, and the sea rises up like a wall of

sapphire. Last night we seemed to plough through a field of gold. The

world is really a lovely place, the big outside world, but it isn't the

outside world which makes our happiness, it is the world within us, and

when the heart is tired---But now I must talk of some one else besides my self.

Shall I tell you of Delilah? She attracts much attention, with her

gracious manner and her wonderful clothes. All the people are crazy

about her. They think she is English, and a duchess at least. Colin

is as pleased as Punch at the success he has made of her, and he just

stands aside and watches her, and flickers his pale lashes and smiles.

Last night she danced some of the new dances, and her tango is as

stately as a minuet. She and Porter danced together--and everybody

stopped to look at them. The gossip is going the rounds that they are

engaged. Oh, I wish they were--I wish they were! It would be good for

him to meet his match. Delilah could hold her own; she wouldn't let

him insist and manage until she was positively mesmerized, as I am.

Delilah has such a queenly way of ruling her world. All the men on

board trail after her. But she makes most of them worship from afar.

As for the women, she picks the best, instinctively, and the ice which

seems congealed around the heart of the average Britisher melts before

her charm, so that already she is playing bridge with the proper

people, and having tea with the inner circle. Even with these she

seems to assume an air of remoteness, which seems to set her apart--and

it is this air, Grace says, which conquers.

When people aren't coupling Porter's name with Delilah's, they are

coupling it with Grace's. You should see our "red-headed woodpeckers,"

as poor Barry used to call them. When they promenade, Grace wears a

bit of a black hat that shows all of her glorious hair, and Porter's

cap can't hide his crown of glory. At first people thought they were

brother and sister, but since it is known that they aren't I can see

that everybody is puzzled.




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