This shall be a good day--as rosy as the apple’s cheeks, as blithe as the lark’s song. I hereby register a vow against Ruddington and all his words and works. We needn’t send him his answer till to-morrow. So, to-day, Susan sha’n’t mention him and I won’t even think of him. Somebody’s left a clean, new, cheap copy of _Les Chouans_ here. How I shall love reading it again. Except while I’m bathing and eating and sleeping, I mean to sit and read it on the cliffs all day. _After breakfast_. After all, Susan is awfully sweet. One can’t stand aloof from her long. While she was downstairs before breakfast allowing Georgette to practise on her in broken English, I went into her room to find a pair of scissors. As usual, it was as neat and nice as if it hadn’t been slept in. But the thing that struck me was a leather photograph-frame on the mantelpiece. I recognized the frame. It was a double one, which I had given Susan because I hated the colour. In the left-hand compartment Susan had placed the newly arrived photograph of Lord Ruddington. And facing him, on the right hand, was----Me! It was that thing I got done last Easter. Until this morning, I’d forgotten that Susan had pleaded for a copy and that I had let her have one for her album. Suddenly to catch sight of myself beaming affectionately across the hinges of the frame at an equally affectionate-looking Lord Ruddington, was certainly a shock. But that Susan should have brought me all the way from England and have stuck me on her mantelpiece was another proof, though none was needed, of her genuine devotion. I took the frame down and held it open in my hands. It was too comical. Ruddington and I are placed in ovals, like the August Young Personages in a Royal Wedding Supplement to an illustrated paper; and we are looking at one another with the most absurd happy-couple air imaginable. "Though I say it as shouldn’t," we make an amazingly pretty pair. If Alice could see it, she would begin to cry. I think I sha’n’t tell Susan that I’ve seen it. _Noon_. I haven’t read much of the _Chouans_. After my bathe, I kept Susan with me on the cliff. The grass was green, the sky was blue, and the sea was both. It was lovely to loll on the flowers and to listen to the sea--its deep speech at the cliff’s foot, its soft murmurs in the sunlit distance.