By
the way, this is the glorious Twelfth. It does seem odd and frumpish not
to be in Scotland, but motoring covers a multitude of social sins. Not a
word has been said about birds. Our sporting talk is of mufflers,
pinions, water-cooled brakes, and chainless drives.
The Tyndals have turned up at this hotel, more gorgeous and more bored
than ever, but they have taken a fancy to Ellaline Lethbridge, and I am
playing it for all it's worth. It comes in handy at the moment, and I
have no conscientious scruples against using millionaires for pawns.
They have an impossibly luxurious motorcar. Sir Lionel thinks it vulgar,
but they are pleased with it, as it's still a new toy. I have been
making a nice little plan for them, which concerns Ellaline. None of
them know it yet, but they will soon, and if it had been invented to
please Dick (which it wasn't entirely) it couldn't suit him better. You
may tell him that, if by any chance he's with you still when you get
this.
My mind is busy working the plan out, so that there may be no hitch, but
a few unoccupied corners of my brain are wondering what you have
discovered about Miss Lethbridge's prospects and antecedents; how, if
both are very undesirable, you intend to persuade Dick to let her drop.
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