on my lunatic adventure. For the first time in my
life I cursed Marcus Aurelius. I shook my fist at him as he stood on the
shelf within easy reach of my hand. It was he who had put into my head
this confounded notion of achieving eumoiriety. Am I dealing to myself,
I asked, a happy lot and portion? Certainly not, I replied, and when
Rogers brought me my brandy and soda I drank it off desperately. After
that I grew better, and drew up a merry little Commination Service.

A plague on the little pain inside.

A plague on Lady Kynnersley for weeping me into my rash undertaking.

A plague on Professor Anastasius Papadopoulos for aiding and abetting
Lady Kynnersley.

A plague on Captain Vauvenarde for running away from his wife; for
giving up the army; for not letting me know whether he is alive or dead;
for being, I'll warrant him, in the most uncomfortable and ungetatable
spot on the globe.

A plague on Dale for becoming infatuated with Lola Brandt. A plague on
him for beguiling me to her acquaintance; for bursting into the room at
that unfortunate moment; for his generous, unsuspecting love for me;
for his youth and hope and charm; for asking me to dine with Lola and
himself in ripping cosiness.

A plague on myself--just to show that I am broad-minded.

And lastly, a plague, a special plague, a veritable murrain on Lola
Brandt for complicating the splendid singleness of my purpose. I don't
know what to think of myself. I have become a common conundrum--which
provides the lowest form of intellectual amusement. It is all her fault.

Listen. I set out to free a young man of brilliant promise, at his
mother's earnest entreaty, from an entanglement with an impossible lady,
and to bring him to the feet of the most charming girl in the world who
is dying of love for him. Could intentions be simpler or more honourable
or more praiseworthy?

I find myself, after two or three weeks, the lady's warm personal
friend, to a certain extent her champion bound by a quixotic oath to
restore her husband to her arms, and regarding my poor Dale with a
feeling which is neither more nor less than green-eyed jealousy. I am
praying heaven to grant his adoption by the Wymington committee, not
because it will be the first step of the ladder of his career, but
because the work and excitement of a Parliamentary election will
prohibit overmuch lounging in _my_ chair in Lola Brandt's drawing-room.

Is there any drug I wonder which can restor