"The Duchess de Berri, being present at a match between two clubs of Englishmen at Dieppe [in 1824], looked on very attentively for nearly three hours, then, turning to one of her attendants, said, '_Mais, quand est-ce que le jeu va commencer?_'" But the time which I have frittered away in this frivolity is as nothing compared with that wasted by Parolles, who has a way of subsiding upon the ground wherever she may happen to be and instantly becoming absorbed in the printed page. It is not as if she exercised any selective power, as I do. All books are the same to her in that they contain type on which the eye can fasten to the detriment of her labour. In every room I have stumbled over her long black legs as she thus abused her trust. And not only has she read more than I have, but she has become steadily dirtier than I, too; partly because of a native _flair_ for whatever makes smears and smudges, and partly because, her hair being long and falling on the page, owing to her crouched attitude when perusing, it has to be swept back, and each sweep leaves its mark. Considering how they set themselves up to be superior and instruct, books are curiously grubby things. And, as I said before, they should be in one volume. * * * * * Illustration: _First Politician._ "SAY, BILL, WOT'S THIS BLOOMIN' MORTUARIUM THEY BE TARKIN' SO MUCH ABOUT?" _Second Politician._ "WELL, YE SEE, IT'S LIKE THIS. YOU DON'T PAY NOTHIN' TO NOBODY AND THE GOVERNMENT PAYS IT FOR YE." _First Politician._ "WELL, THAT SOUNDS A BIT OF ALL RIGHT, DOAN'T IT?" * * * * * THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. The noise of the retreating sea came pleasantly to us from a distance. Celia was lying on her--I never know how to put this nicely--well, she was lying face downwards on a rock and gazing into a little pool which the tide had forgotten about and left behind. I sat beside her and annoyed a limpet. Three minutes ago I had taken it suddenly by surprise and with an Herculean effort moved it an eighteenth of a millimetre westwards. My silence since then was lulling it into a false security, and in another two minutes I hoped to get a move on it again. "Do you know," said Celia with a puzzled look on her face, "sometimes I think I'm quite an ordinary person after all." "You aren't a little bit," I said lazily; "you're just like nobody else in the world." "Well, of course, you had to say that." "No, I hadn't. Lots of husbands would merely have yawned." I felt one coming and stopped it just in time. Waiting for limpets to go to sleep is drowsy work. "But why are you so morbid about yourself suddenly?" "I don't know," she said. "Only every now and then I find myself thinking the most _obvious_ thoughts."