Yes, he's not so clear now, Soliver. He has enjoyed himself. Sometimes he enjoys himself so much, he forgets to do the good things he prepared. I could stay for hours and hours, he says. But he's just as keen as you are in getting tests through. I think I have got some. When I go away, I pat myself on the back and think, That's something for them to say, "Old Raymond does remember something." What does aggravate him sometimes is that when he can't get things through, people think it's because he has forgotten. It isn't a case of forgetting. He doesn't forget anything.
Father, do you remember what I told mother about the place I had been to, and whom I had been allowed to see? What did they think of it?
[See M. F. A. L. sitting with Mrs. Leonard, 4 February 1916, Chap. [XX].]
O. J. L.—Well, the family thought that it wasn't like Raymond.
Ah, that's what I was afraid of. That's the awful part of it.
O. J. L.—Well, I don't suppose they knew your serious side.
Before he gave that to his mother, he hesitated, and thought he wouldn't. And then he said, Never mind what they think now, I must let mother and father know. Some day they will know, and so, what does it matter?
He knew that they might think it was something out of a book, not me; but perhaps they didn't know that side of me so well.
O. J. L.—No. But among the things that came back, there was a Bible with marked passages in it, and so I saw that you had thought seriously about these things. [page [11].]
Yes, he says. Yet there's something strange about it somehow. We are afraid of showing that side; we keep it to ourselves, and even hide it.