"Ça, c'est vrai!" said the Comte and Jean together, and every one laughed.
Now that the betrothal ring is really on Victorine's finger, and Héloise knows she will be got off, she does not mind a bit about the Marquis looking at me. She kept laughing to herself over it all the way home; she really detests Victorine. Godmamma and the bride-elect hardly spoke a word, and I am sure if a perfect hurricane blows to-morrow, they won't suggest my waiting another day, so I shall be glad to be off.
Good-night, dear Mamma; you will see me almost as soon as you get this, as I shall only sleep the night in London at Aunt Mary's.—With love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.
RETBY
Retby,
September 20th.
Lady Theodosia's Pets