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Mrs. McMurray says, can you spare me for one more week? She
wants to teach me manners. She says I have shocked the top priest
hereoh, you call him a vikkernow I do rememberbecause I went
out for a walk with a little young pretty priest without a hat,
and because it rained I put on his hat and the vikker met us. But
I did not flirt with the little priest. Oh, no! I told him he
must not make love to me like the young man from the grocer's.
And I told him that if he wrote poetry you would beat him. So I
have been very good. And darling Seer Marcous, I want to come
back very much, but Mrs. McMurray says I must stay, and she is
going to have a baby and I am very happy and good, and Mr. McMurray
says funny things and makes me laugh. But I love my darling Seer
Marcous best. Give Antoinette and Polifemus [the oneeyed cat)
two very nice kisses for me. And here is one for Seer Marcous
from his
CARLOTTA.
How can I refuse? But I wish she were here.
31st October.
I did not sleep last night. I have done no work today. The
Renaissance has receded into a Glacial Epoch wherein, as far as
its humanity is concerned, I have not a tittle of interest. I
sought refuge in the club. Why should an old sober University
club be such a haven of unrest? Ponting, an opinionated don of
Corpus, seated himself at my luncheon table, and discoursed on
political economy and golf. I manifested a polite ignorance of
these high matters. He assured me that if I studied the one and
played at the other, I should be physically and mentally more
robust; whereupon he thumped his narrow chest, and put on a scowl
of intellectuality. I fear that Ponting, like most of the men
here, studies golf and plays at political economy. In serener
moments I suffer Ponting gladly. But today his boast that he
had done the course at Westward Ho! in seven, or seventeen, or
seventyhow on earth should I remember?left me cold, and his
crude economics interfered with my digestion.
Strolling forlornly down Piccadilly I, came face to face with my
sadcoloured Cousin Rosalie in a sadcoloured gown. She gave me
a hasty nod and would have passed on, but I arrested her. Her
white face was turned piteously upward and from her
expressionless eyes flashed a glance of fear. I felt myself in a
brutal mood.
Why, I asked, are you avoiding me as if I were a pestilence?

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