June 17.
Prof. Geo. Saintsbury's book on Elizabethan literature amuses me. George, there can be no doubt, is a very refined, cultivated fellow. I bet he don't eat periwinkles with a pin or bite his nails—and you should hear him refer to folk who can't read Homer in the original or who haven't been to Oxford—to Merton above all. He also says non so che for je ne sais quoi.
June 26.
... I placed the volume on the mantelpiece as if it were a bottle of physic straight from my Dispensary, and I began to expostulate and expound, as if she were a sick person and I the doctor.... She seemed a little nettled at my proselytising demeanour and gave herself out to be very preoccupied—or at any rate quite uninterested in my physic. I read the book last night at one sitting and was boiling over with it.
"I fear I have come at an inconvenient time," I said, with a sardonic smile and strummed on the piano.... "I must really be off. Please read it (which sounded like 'three times a day after meals') and tell me how you like it. (Facetiously.) Of course don't give up your present manual for it, that would be foolish and unnecessary." ... I rambled on—disposed to be very playful.
At last calmly and horribly, in a thoughtful voice she answered,—
"I think you are very rude; you play the piano after I asked you to stop and walk about just as if it were your own home."
I remained outwardly calm but inwardly was very surprised and full of tremors. I said after a pause,—
"Very well, if you think so.... Good-bye."
No answer; and I was too proud to apologise.