Besides, a new idea has occurred to me, and I can hardly find patience to wait for its realisation.

Guess, Richard!...  I intend to take a trip round the world.  I have already written to Cook’s offices, and am eagerly awaiting information as to tickets, fares, etc.  I shall not go alone.  I have not courage enough for that.  I will take Jeanne with me.  If I cannot manage it out of my income, I shall break into my capital, even if I have to live on a pittance hereafter.

No—­do not make any more of your generous offers of help.  You must not give any more money now to “women.”  Remember that, Richard!

The White Villa will be shut up during my absence; it cannot take to itself wings, nor eat its head off during my absence.  Probably in future I shall spend my time between this place and various big towns abroad, so that I shall only be here in summer.

At the same time as this letter, I am sending a wedding present for your new bride.  Girls are always crazy about jewellery.  I have no further use for a diadem of brilliants; but you need not tell her where it comes from.  You will recognise it.  It was your first overwhelming gift, and on our wedding day I was so taken up with my new splendour that I never heard a word of the pastor’s sermon.  They said it was most eloquent.

I hope you will have the tact to remove the too numerous portraits of myself which adorn your walls.  Sell them for the benefit of struggling artists; in that way, they will serve some good purpose, and I shall not run the risk of being disfigured by my successor.

If I should come across any pretty china, or fine embroidery, in Japan, I shall not forget your passion for collecting.

Let me know the actual date of the wedding, you can always communicate through my banker.  But the announcement will suffice.  Do not write.  Henceforth you must devote yourself entirely to your role of young husband.

You quite forgot to answer my questions about Lillie, and I conclude from your silence that all is well with her.

Give her my love, and accept my affectionate greetings.

ELSIE LINDTNER.

P.S.—­As yet I cannot grapple with the problem of my future appellation.  I do not feel inclined to return to my maiden name.  “Elizabeth Bugge” makes me think of an overgrown grave in a churchyard.

Well, you will be neither the first nor the last man with several wives scattered about the globe.  The world may be a small place, but it is large enough to hold two “Mrs. Lindtners” without any chance of their running across each other.