22. Additional remarks. Is bad−tempered, impatient, obstinate, and self−opinionated. Has no first−hand knowledge of the time it takes to prepare Byronic (or other) curls o' nights. Has not been in love before. Hasn't a Past. And hasn't a Future either, unless it's to be spent with Suzanne. I don’t know yet what Susan thinks of these documents. She has left them on my table without remark. At the first glance I didn’t like them. They smacked too much of the funny man labouring to be smart. But, after a second reading, I like them. After all, the poor boy couldn’t very well sit down with a serious face and write out his own testimonial in cold ink. His wit might be sprightlier: but I begin to discern the gravity underlying it. His way of bringing it in that he has no Past, no entanglements, no old flames, is skilful and considerate. Perhaps this is the very point Susan has been worrying about. Who knows? Perhaps she has been fearing that she isn’t the first simple beauty that his lordship has taken by storm. Perhaps she thinks he is an old-style lord, with a pretty taste in milk-maids, and therefore not much better than a new-style lord with a nasty appetite for ladies of the ballet. Whatever am I to say if Susan asks me what he means by the little bits written up the sides? _Tuesday_, 3 _p.m._ My bathe made me tired. I sha’n’t go out again to-day. Susan is wooden-headed past belief. I was amused for a few moments at the odd comments she made on Ruddington’s letter; but her dulness grows monotonous. She began: "Don’t you think, Miss, that ... that he writes rather strange?" "What do you mean?" I asked. "I mean, Miss," whispered Susan mysteriously, "do you think he’s ... quite right in his head?" "Well, Susan," I answered, "when one looks at the way he runs after a girl whom he’s never spoken to, I admit it does make one wonder if he isn’t a bit mad." Susan pouted. "I mean his letter, Miss," she said. "And this big blue paper." "As for his letters, Susan," I replied, "I don’t see much wrong with them. Aren’t they bright, and frank, and kind?" "Why does he say, Miss, that he’s named Henry?" "Simply because Henry is his name." "But lords don’t have any names, Miss, do they? I mean they only have surnames." I asked for light.