"I am _mad_ about your nobleman! Isn't it _wonderful_ to have such unique and thrilling adventures?
I suppose you hung things up on the walls of the cave and built a delightfully smoky fire and that the Hungarian--_bless_ his heart!--trimmed his corduroy suit with an ancestral stiletto, and paid his courtly respects to the beautiful gypsy hermit and fell _desperately_ in love with her, as well he might.

I would _myself_! "Diane, I simply _must_ see him! I'm dying for a new sensation.

Ever since Baron Tregar's car was stolen from the farm garage and his handsome secretary _mysteriously_ disappeared (by the way, it's Philip Poynter--Carl knows him--do you ?) and then reappeared with a most unsatisfactory explanation which didn't in the least explain where he had been--only to up and disappear again as strangely as before, and the _very_ next morning--life has been terribly monotonous.

And mother had a rustic seizure and made us stay at the farm _all_ summer.
Imagine! Dick's aeroplaned the tops off _all_ the trees! "_Do_ beg your Hungarian to join us at Palm Beach in January.

It would be _most interesting_ and novel and I'll _swear_ on the ancestral stiletto to preserve his incognito! You remember you solemnly promised to come to me in January, no matter _where_ you were! My enthusiasm grows as I write--it always does.