You and I were
born knowing quite a lot of nice little things like that, weren't we?
Things we picked up during our various incarnations; things _new_ souls
haven't had time to collect, poor dears.
My automobiliness is the reason I've only sent you snippy "how-do-you-do
and good-bye" notes, interspersed with telegrams, for the last few days,
just thanking you for wise advice, and saying "Glad-you're-well;
so-am-I."
You will guess from my very handwriting that I'm feeling more at home in
life than I did when I wrote you last. And I can't help being pleased
that Ellaline's adored one won't be able to leave his manoeuvres, to
make her his own, till a fortnight or so later than she expected. That
is, I can't help being glad, as the doctor thinks you ought to stop at
Champel-les-Bains till after the first week of September, and we
_couldn't_ be together, even if I were back in Paris. You swear you
didn't hypnotize him to say that? I would enjoy more peace of mind,
while careering through England in Apollo, if I were certain.
Oh, that reminds me, I forgot to tell you what fun it was christening
Apollo. I quite enjoyed it, and felt immensely important.
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