nce he has yielded he departs forthwith from his
gorged carcass and flaps his transcendental wings.... Do honeymooners
ever come to Waterloo Bridge? I doubt it. Imagine turning from that
sublime sweep of greys and sombre gilts, that perfect arrangement of
blank masses and sweeping lines, to the mottled pink of a cheek lately
virgin, the puny curve of a modish eyebrow, the hideous madness of a
trousseau hat!...

I am no stranger to these moods and whims. I am not merely a casual
outsider who has looked about him, sniffed deprecatingly and taken the
train for Dover--which leads to Calais--which leads to Paris--which
leads to youthful romance. I have wallowed in London as the ascetic
wallows in his punitive rites, with a strange, keen joy. I have been a
voluntary St. Simeon on its cold grey street corners. I have eaten so
often--and so much--at Simpson's that I know two of the waiters by their
first names. And I could order correctly their famous cuts by looking at
my watch, knowing at what hour the mutton was ready, at what hour the
roast beef was rarest. So long have I worn English shirts that even now
I find myself crawling into the American brand after the manner of the
woodchuck burrowing into his hole. Frequently I find myself proffering
dimes to the fair uniformed vestals of our theatres who present me with
programmes. I have read each separate slab in Westminster Abbey. I have
made suave and courtly love to a thousand nursemaids in Hyde Park. I
have exuded great globules of perspiration rowing on the Thames, while
the fair beneficiary of my labours lolled placidly in the boat's stern
upon a hummock of Persian pillows. I know every overhanging lovers' tree
from Richmond to Hampton Court. I have consumed hogsheads of ale at "The
Sign of the Cock." I have followed the horses at Epsom and Newmarket, at
Goodwood and Ascot. I have browsed for hours in French's book store. I
have lounged in luxurious taxicabs upholstered in pale grey, and ridden
interminably back and forth through the Mall, Constitution Hill and
Piccadilly....

All of these things have I done. And more. In brief, I have lived the
dashing and reckless life of a dozen Londoners. But--and here is the
point!--I have lived it _in the daytime_. When the shadows began to
drift into the fogs and the twilight settled over the grey masonry of
the city, I would generally fly to the theatre and afterward to my
garish rooms in Adams Street; or, as was often the case,