In another week I shall be at home, and there, my having been at Godmersham will seem like a dream, as my visit to Brompton seems already.
The orange wine will want our care soon. But in the meantime, for elegance and ease and luxury, the Hattons and the Milles' dine here to-day, and I shall eat ice and drink French wine, and be above vulgar economy. Luckily the pleasures of friendship, of unreserved conversation, of similarity of taste and opinions, will make good amends for orange wine.
Little Edward is quite well again.
Yours affectionately, with love from all,
J. A.