Heart to Heart.

I've got a new frock. It's gorgeous. You slide Into a purple sheath and then drop a mass of pale green frills over it, and the effect is marvellous. So sweet, and it gives one that "air." I'm going to wear it to the Final Ball in November because there will only be two hundred couples there and I love being in an exclusive crowd. You know.

Oh—that nice John Hatherley, you remember him. I'm sure; well, he has been at some conference in Glasgow—I forget what it was, but I'm sure he was important. C.I.E., it was, whatever that is.

Isn't it awful the way people talk in initials? I always sit still and look pretty because I never can remember what N.Z.U.S.A. and S.P.C.A. and U.S.A. stand for and I heard a new one the other day, but when I asked what it meant they said. "Bumping Off Adolph Society," which sounded mad. Who is Adolph? I used to have a dog called Adolph—It used to bite people and nobody liked it. My brother killed it just when it was going to have a fight with a hungary pup. All the neighbours were there and they saw him shoot it. Some of them were glad. He's in the territorials and he knows how to shoot. I wish you could see him in his puttees and his big khaki hat and his polished buttons. Wouldn't it be fun to go to a war and polish your buttons and swap stories. They say the soldiers have a marvellous time. They get so friendly, you see and they can talk about their country and everyone cheers them and women cry. Have you got any boy friends among the territorials? I have and it is nice. Bert says soldiering is "a man's job and you need guts." I suppose he means that a woman wouldn't know how to do up puttees and polish buttons. And of course they wouldn't, would they, because a woman's place is in the home? The men have to wear uniforms and march about and protect the homes and the little ones.