Part 5

What can I say? I am in sackcloth and ashes. I am a pariah, a dog of an outcast. I tried to make a little romance to interest you, something soothing and idyllic, and, by Jove! I have done it only too well! My father doesn’t know a word of this, so don’t jar the old gentleman any more than you can help. I fly from the wrath to come--when you arrive! For oh, dear Jack, there isn’t any piazza, there isn’t any hammock--there isn’t any Marjorie Daw!