y gambling in some Algiers
Casino, you simply telegraphed next morning to me in London to lodge the
amount of your losses to your account at your bank, and gave the matter
no further thought of any kind.

When I tell you that between the autumn of 1892 and the date of my
imprisonment, I spent with you and on you, more than L5,000 in actual
money, irrespective of the bills I incurred, you will have some idea of
the sort of life on which you insisted. Do you think I exaggerate? My
ordinary expenses with you for an ordinary day in London--for luncheon,
dinner, supper, amusements, hansoms, and the rest of it--ranged from L12
to L20, and the week's expenses were naturally in proportion and ranged
from L80 to L130. For our three months at Goring my expenses (rent, of
course, included) were L1,340. Step by step with the Bankruptcy Receiver
I had to go over every item of my life. It was horrible. "Plain living
and high thinking," was, of course, an ideal you could not at that time
have appreciated, but such an extravagance was a disgrace to both of
us. One of the most delightful dinners I remember ever having had is one
Robbie and I had together in a little Soho Cafe, which cost about as
many shillings as my dinners to you used to cost pounds. Out of my
dinner with Robbie came the first and best of all my dialogues. Idea,
title, treatment, mode, everything was struck out at a 3 franc 50c.
table d'hote. Out of the reckless dinners with you nothing remains but
the memory that too much was eaten and too much was drunk. And my
yielding to your demands was bad for you. You know that now. It made you
grasping often: at times not a little unscrupulous: ungracious always.
There was, on far too many occasions, too little joy or privilege in
being your host. You forgot--I will not say the formal courtesy of
thanks, for formal courtesies will strain a close friendship--but simply
the grace of sweet companionship, the charm of pleasant conversation,
and all those gentle humanities that make life lovely, and are an
accompaniment to life as music might be, keeping things in tune and
filling with melody the harsh or silent places. And though it may seem
strange to you that one in the terrible position in which I am situated,
should find a difference between one disgrace and another, still I
frankly admit that the folly of throwing away all this money on you, and
letting you squander my fortune to your own hurt as well as to mine,
gives to me