sunderstood. But I have long grasped that
whatever we do we are misunderstood--small blame to other people; for,
we know ourselves, our best motives are things we could neither
explain nor defend. And I would rather hurt those who can shout than
her who is silent.

You might tell me what you feel about this: but I am myself
absolutely convinced that gaiety that is the bubble of love, does not
annoy me: the old round of stories, laughter, family ceremonies,
seems to me far less really inappropriate than a single moment of
forced silence or unmanly shame. . . .

I have always imagined Frances did not know of her mother's efforts
to tidy Gilbert, but very early in their engagement she began her own
abortive attempts to make him brush his hair, tie his tie straight
and avoid made-up ones, attend to the buttons on his coat, and all
the rest. It would seem that for a time at any rate he made some
efforts, but evidently simply regarded the whole thing as one huge
joke.

11 Warwick Gardens
(Postmarked July 9th, 1899)

. . . I am clean. I am wearing a frockcoat, which from a
superficial survey seems to have no end of buttons. It must be
admitted that I am wearing a bow-tie: but on careful research I find
that these were constantly worn by Vikings. A distinct allusion to
them is made in that fine fragment, the Tryggvhessa Saga, where the
poet says, in the short alliterative lines of Early Norse poetry:

Frockcoat Folding then
Hakon Hardrada
Bow-tie Buckled
Waited for war

(Brit. Mus. Mss. CCCLXIX lines 99981-99985)

I resume. My appearance, as I have suggested, is singularly
exemplary. My boots are placed, after the fastidious London fashion,
on the feet: the laces are done up, the watch is going, the hair is
brushed, the sleeve-links are inserted, for of such is the Kingdom of
Heaven. As for my straw hat, I put it on eighteen times
consecutively, taking a run and a jump to each try, till at last I
hit the right angle. I have not taken it off for three days and
nights lest I should disturb that exquisite pose. Ladies, princes,
queens, ecclesiastical processions go by in vain: I do not remove it.
That angle of the hat is something to mount guard over. As Swinburne
says--"Not twice on earth do the gods do this."

It is at present what is, I believe, called a lovely summer's
night. To say that it is hot would be as feeb