less when it is shot down my back by a careless man.

There is a fancy-dress ball to-night at Government House, and that is
the last of my dissipations for some time to come.

I go on writing, writing all the time about my own affairs and never
even mention your letters, and nothing makes me so cross as to have
people do that to me. I like my friends to make interested comments on
everything I tell them.

I am glad you are so happy in your work and enjoy life. Is the book
nearly finished yet? It is nice that you have found such charming
friends. Is the Fräulein person you talk about pretty? I can imagine
how you enjoy hearing her play and singing to her accompaniment. I
always think of you when I hear good music, and of your face when I
told you that the only music I really liked was Scots songs played
on the pianola! But you know that is really true. I simply hate good
music.

Once, in Paris, I went with some people to hear _Samson et Delilah_,
and while everyone sat rapt, enchanted by the sweet sounds, I waited
with what patience I could till the stage temple fell, in the vain
hope that some part would hit the tenor. What would your Fräulein say
to such blasphemy?

Forgive me maligning the gods of your idolatry. I think I had better
finish this letter before I go on from bad to worse, because I am in
an unaccountably perverse and impertinent frame of mind to-day, and
there is no saying what I shall say next.