hate the thought of London and that hot theatre to-morrow night. Oh, my
primroses! What a wretch I am! I've lost them nearly all. Look, just that
bunch over there, Mr. Kendal, before we leave the common."

'I sprang to get them for her, and brought back a quantity. She took them
in her hand--how unlike other women she is after all, in spite of her
hatred of Bohemia!--and, raising them to her lips, she waved a farewell
through them to the great common lying behind us in the evening sun. "How
beautiful! how beautiful! This English country is so kind, so friendly!
It has gone to my heart. Good-night, you wonderful place!"

'She had conquered me altogether. It was done so warmly--with such a
winning, spontaneous charm. I cannot say what pleasure I got out of those
primroses lying in her soft ungloved hand all the way home. Henceforward,
I feel she may make what judgments and draw what lines she pleases; she
won't change me, and I have some hopes of modifying her; but I am not
very likely to feel annoyance towards her again. She is like some frank,
beautiful, high-spirited child playing a game she only half understands.
I wish she understood it better. I should like to help her to understand
it--but I won't quarrel with her, even in my thoughts, any more!

* * * * *

'On looking over this letter it seems to me that if
you were not you, and I were not I, you might with
some plausibility accuse me of being--what?--in love
with Miss Bretherton? But you know me too well.
You know I am one of the old-fashioned people who
believe in community of interests--in belonging to the
same world. When I come coolly to think about it, I