YACHT "MARIE,"
SOUTHAMPTON.
_July 23rd_, 1901.

DEAREST LILY,

I promised to let you know how I got on, and to write as soon as there
was anything to write about. So here goes. I am on board Jack Vivian's
yacht, and a ripper it is. That is to say, I am on the yacht in the
day, but sleep at the South Western Hotel. I hate sleeping on board a
yacht, and never do so if I can help it. It may benefit one's
health--daresay that it does--but I do like to take my rest on shore.
Well, now, as to my news. I have made a great impression on Mr. Vivian.
He is the easiest man to deal with I ever met in my life, and he is as
putty in my hands. That stupid girl, Miss Dacre, to whom he is supposed
to be engaged--I say supposed because he does not seem to be quite
clear about it himself--hasn't got a chance with me. What Jack Vivian
could have ever seen in her I can't guess. She is the usual type of
English Miss who can say "Papa and Mamma," and that is about all. I can
see that she loathes me, and I don't wonder at it. But I am perfectly
charming to her, and affect not to notice her palpable dislike.

Mrs. Vivian--Jack's mother--seems not to have the remotest idea how
matters are shaping, and fondly imagines that her beloved son is going
to marry Miss Dacre. My dear Lily, as the Americans say, "it will be a
cold day in August before that event comes off." The fact is that Jack
pays her only the slightest attention and is absolutely engrossed with
me. If I, therefore, don't pull off this _coup_ I deserve to be hanged.
When I have actually landed my fish I shall take my departure for a day
while he breaks matters off with mademoiselle. You may not perhaps