"An earthquake must be a dreadful thing," she gently piped, as she abstractedly dealt out the cards for a new game in a pretty Morris-papered room in Kensington.
January 20.
At a Public Dinner
... The timorous man presently took out his cigarette-case and was going to take out a cigarette, when he recollected that he ought first to offer one to the millionaire on his right. Fortunately the cigarette case was silver and the cigarettes appeared—from my side of the dinner-table—to be fat Egyptians. Yet the timorous and unassuming bug-hunter hesitated palpably. Ought he to offer his cigarettes? He thought of his own balance at the bank and then of the millionaire's and trembled. The case after all was only silver and the cigarettes were not much more than a halfpenny each. Was it not impertinent? He sat a moment studying the open case which he held in both hands like a hymn book, while the millionaire ordered not wines—but a bass! At last courage came, and he inoffensively pushed the cigarettes towards his friend.
"No, thanks!" smiled the millionaire, "I don't smoke." And so, 'twas a unicorn dilemma after all.
February 15.
Spent Xmas week at work in her studio, transcribing my Journals while she made drawings. All unbeknown to her I was copying out entries of days gone by—how scandalised she would be if...!
February 22.
What an amazing Masque is Rotten Row on a Sunday morning! I sat on a seat there this morning and watched awhile.
It was most exasperating to be in this kaleidoscope of human life without the slightest idea as to who they all were. One man in particular, I noticed—a first-class "swell"—whom I wanted to touch gently on the arm, slip a half-a-crown into his hand and whisper, "There, tell me all about yourself."