Putting aside all consideration of what people may say or think, I feel it would be franker, more dignified, more true to yourself, to others, to me, that the relation between us should be told. All kinds of complications will arise if we keep it secret. Do not act hastily on receiving this. Think it over carefully. Oh, I love you, Polly, with my whole soul! But I can’t come home at once; my friend Charlton is now seriously ill and Embassy matters are tied up. Under the circumstances, I am glad you left Paris when you did. Did Boris see you off? How bustling and busy your getting away from the hotel must have been,--the drive to the station through the gay streets, the excitement at the train, the helter-skelter of passengers and porters with their bags, baggage, boxes, baskets, and rugs. Then the steamer, the good-byes, the buzz of the engine, the splash of water and a realization at last that you were homeward bound! It will seem odd to hear about Rome now that you are in America, about the streets yellow with flooding sunshine, and crowded with carts from the Campagna, and cabbies on their rattletrap carriages cracking their whips and crying “ah!” in deep guttural tones at their horses, instead of saying “Whoa!” or “Gee up!” in the proper American way. Early one afternoon Charlton and I started out in an ancient cab and a decrepit horse to go to the Piazza San Pietro, or perish in the attempt. I had the enthusiasm and he the perseverance. Indeed we took turns in exhibiting these qualities, for there came a time when he was enthusiastic and I persevered. There were moments when the old horse went so slowly that we thought he would never get there, but the driver used the whip encouragingly. Finally we reached St. Peter’s, surrounded by its huge colonnade, with its splashing fountains, went up the broad terrace steps and beneath the great _loggia_, and into the overwhelming interior with its vast distance, out of all proportion to anything else in the world. Inside the people were kissing the toe of St. Peter, while crowds walked about and men were hammering away until the whole place resounded with the work of putting up tribunes for some ceremonies. But a great shaft of yellow sunshine came streaming down from the dome, making the gloom golden, and above the hum of voices could be heard the Pope’s angel chanting beautifully.