he called it.
Miss Power is going to you on Thursday on a month’s probation, and she is my gift to you, remember: I have arranged it all. It is very Sultanic to be distributing young women like this, and you must be properly grateful. I was never Sultanic before.
Here’s a nice thing my sister Violet’s charwoman said yesterday. Violet seems to have been looking rather more wistful than usual, but for no particular reason. The charwoman, however, noticed it and commented upon it.
“You look very sad this morning,” she said. “But then,” she added, “ladies generally do.”
“Why is that?” Violet asked.
“They have such difficult lives,” she said. “It’s their husbands, I think.”
“But you have a husband.”
“Yes, but we don’t notice our husbands as much as you do. They come in and they’re cross and they swear, and we let them. We’ve got our work to get on with. But with ladies it’s different; they take notice.”
Your daily poem:—
He who bends to himself a joy