To-day another American lunched with me, a bright girl, an heiress of the breezy, jolly kind, a good sort before the war, whom I danced with often. She told me quite naturally that she had a German prisoner's thigh bone being polished into an umbrella handle--She had assisted at the amputation--and the man had afterwards died--"A really cute souvenir," she assured me it was going to be! Are we all mad--? No wonder the finest and best "go West."--Will they come again, souls of a new race, when all these putrid beings have become extinguished by time? I hope so to God.... These French women enjoy their crepe veils--and their high-heeled shoes, and their short black skirts, even a cousin is near enough for the trappings of woe.--Can any of us feel woe now?--I think not.... Maurice has his uses--Were I a man once more I should despise Maurice--He is so good a creature, such a devoted hanger on of the very rich--and faithful too. Does he not pander to my every fancy, and procure me whatever I momentarily desire? How much better if I had been killed outright! I loathe myself and all the world. * * * * * Once--before the war--the doing up of this flat caused me raptures. To get it quite English--in Paris! Every _antiquaire_ in London had exploited me to his heart's content. I paid for it through the nose, but each bit is a gem. I am not quite sure now what I meant to do with it when finished, occupy it when I did come to Paris--lend it to friends?--I don't remember--Now it seems a sepulchre where I can retire my maimed body to and wait for the end. * * * * * Nina once proposed to stay with me here, no one should know, Nina?--would she come now?--How dare they make this noise at the door--what is it?--Nina! * * * * * _Sunday_--it was actually Nina herself--"Poor darling Nicholas," she said. "The kindest fate sent me across--I 'wangled' a passport--really serious war work, and here I am for a fortnight, even in war time one _must_ get a few clothes--" I could see I was a great shock to her, my attraction for her had gone--I was just "poor darling Nicholas," and she began to be motherly--Nina motherly!--She would have been furious at the very idea once. Nina is thirty-nine years old, her boy has just gone into the flying corps, she is so glad the war will soon be over. She loves her boy. She gave me news of the world, our old world of idle uselessness, which is now one of solid work. "Why have you completely cut yourself off from everything and everybody, ever since you first went out to fight?--Very silly of you." "When I was a _man_ and could fight, I liked fighting, and never wanted to see any of you again. You all seemed rotters to me, so I spent my leaves in the country or here. Now you seem glorious beings, and I the rotter. I am no use at all--" Nina came close to me and touched my hand-- "Poor darling Nicholas," she said again.