I told him this in the middle of one of his luxurious silences. "I will tell you," he said deliberately, "when we reach the Oratory." (We were in Brompton Road.)
"Which side of it?" I enquired anxiously. "This or that?"
"That," said he, "will depend on how you behave in the meantime."
April 3.
We met a remarkable Bulldog to-day in the street, humbly following behind a tiny boy to whom it was attached by a piece of string. At the time we were following in the wake of three magnificent Serbian Officers, and I was particularly interesting myself in the curious cut of their top boots. But the Bulldog was the Red Herring in our path.
"Is that a Dog?" I asked the little boy.
He assured me that it was, and so it turned out to be, tho' Bull-frog would have been a better name for it, the forelegs being more bandied, the back broader and the mouth wider than in any Bulldog I have ever seen. It was a super-Bulldog.
We turned and walked on. "There," said R——, "now we have lost our Serbian Officers."
April 4.
"May I use your microscope?" he asked.