Something told me to keep back my first letter--in which, under the first impression, I myself rashly 'raved'; and I concocted instead of it an insincere and guarded report.

But guarded as I was I clearly didn't keep you 'down,' as we say, enough.

The wonder of your colour--daub you over with grey as I might--must have come through and told the tale.

She scents battle from afar--by which I mean she scents 'quaintness.' But keep her off.

It's hideous, what I'm saying--but I owe it to you.