Mrs. Vivian must be blind not to see what is going on.  But I cannot enlighten her, and what am I to do?  Do give me your advice, dear Amy?

Ever your affectionate
ROSE.

From Miss Amy Conway to Miss Rose Dacre.

ALFORD STREET. 
TUESDAY.

My dearest Child,

Just got yours.  You ask my advice, and to use a phrase of my brother Tom’s, “I give it you in once.”  Don’t be a little goose and bother your pretty little head.  I am older than you, and I understand women of the Mrs. Tenterden type.  They amuse men for a time, and very often take them captive, but in nineteen cases out of twenty the prisoner escapes.  In other words, they are not the women who men care to marry.  Fancy your Jack, for instance, preferring a rusee garrison hack, like Mrs. Tenterden, to your own sweet self.  It is absolutely ridiculous.

Do nothing and say nothing.  Don’t worry yourself and all will come right.  The temporary infatuation will pass away, and Mr. Vivian will love you all the better afterwards.  You will see if I am not right.

So be comforted, darling Rose. 
Ever your loving
AMY.

From Mrs. Tenterden to Mrs. Montague Mount, 170A, Ebury Street, S.W.

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 approve of this, but I know what I am about.