We are in love with Grace Harding.  Well, what if I did say it before?  I like to keep on saying it.  It’s the best thing I have written since I started this stupid diary. We are in love with Grace Harding.

When you come to think of it, John, we cannot take any great amount of credit for that.  It is not startling, and I’m awfully afraid it is not original.  Now, as I look at it, it would be much more remarkable if I—­I beg your pardon, John Henry Smith—­it would be much more remarkable if we were not in love with Grace Harding.  Did you ever think of that?

Falling in love with Grace Harding was the easiest thing we ever did, Smith, and you know it.  We are entitled to no more credit for it than for admiring one of those glorious sunsets, when the eye is ravished by blended and ever-changing tints of cloud, sky, and enchanted landscape.  We do not boast, Smith, that we love the songs of the birds, or the graceful bend of the willow as it yields to the summer’s breeze; we do not call attention to our worship of the early morn, when the dew sparkles like swarming diamonds on grass and flower, and bridal veils of mist float over the breasts of the hills.

We loved her, Smith, from the moment she dawned upon us the day her father made that wonderful drive.  We loved her while she was playing that first game of golf—­and now we can talk frankly with each other, I will confess I never saw a woman play worse than she did that day.  But the fact that our admiration grew during every moment of that weird and wonderful exhibition of how not to hit a ball, proves we were in love.  You never denied it, you say?  I know you didn’t; and it’s to your credit.

But does she love us, Smith?  You don’t know?  Of course you don’t know, but what do you think about it?  You hope, she does, you say.  Smith you’re as stupid as I am!  Certainly you hope she does, and so do I, but have you any reason to believe she does?  Why don’t you say something?

“She is pleasant to us, smiles at us, and seems to enjoy our society,” you say.  Well, what of it?  What does that prove?  I could say the same thing of Miss Ross, Miss Dangerfield, and even of Miss Lawrence.  I am not so conceited as to imagine these charming girls are in love with us because they laugh, smile, and seem to be pleased at our attempts to entertain them.

Carter could make claim that Miss Harding was in love with him on the same plea.  And speaking of Carter, I should like your opinion of him.  I’ll tell you frankly I don’t like the way he acts.

Mind you, Smith, I’m not going to say anything against Carter, and I shall not permit you to.  Carter has as much right to fall in love with Grace Harding as we have, and for that matter I’m afraid he has more claim in that direction.  If you will recollect, it was Carter who introduced us to Miss Harding.

I have no idea when and where he met her.  Carter is a chap who attends to his own affairs and who does not permit others to interfere in them.  It is not likely he will tell us, and I shall never ask him.