Of course, tonight was magical. When the Italian man with the bottle of wine in his overcoat pocket is with your party, it bodes well. Especially when he has, a) boar hunting, and b) dalmatian, stories. And how about when the hostess brings up her natural proficiency in archery? Swoon. As I gamely chatted, I was immensely grateful to the man who patiently explained to me, over dinner in London last spring, the difference between hunting (foxes), shooting (birds), and stalking (deer). Even better, I came home to a charming letter, postmarked Mayfair, mocking me mercilessly for the American lingo in my last dispatch. I can't wait 'til I get there, either; hopefully for a good long time, as we say.