answers them punctually. She loses all her time looking to see "what the
time is." I overheard her whispering, "Just so many hours, minutes,
etc., to Tuesday; I think St. George's goes too slow." This little
present of Time,--why, 't is Eternity to her!

What can make her so fond of a gingerbread watch?

She has spoiled some of the movements. Between ourselves, she has kissed
away "half-past twelve," which I suppose to be the canonical hour in
Hanover Square.

Well, if "love me, love my watch," answers, she will keep time to you.

It goes right by the Horse-Guards.

Dearest M.,--Never mind opposite nonsense. She does not love you for the
watch, but the watch for you. I will be at the wedding, and keep the
30th July, as long as my poor months last me, as a festival gloriously.

Yours ever,

ELIA.



THE END.