Man and Maid

* * * * *

Burton is delighted that I shall write a book!--He wrote at once to my

aunt Emmeline to tell her that I was better. I have her letter with

congratulations in it to-day. Burton does the correspondence with my few

relations, all war working hard in England. I am becoming quite excited,

I long to begin, but there is no use until Maurice finds me a

stenographer. He has heard of two. One a Miss Jenkins, aged

forty--sounds good, but she can only give three hours a day--and I must

have one at my beck and call--There is a second one, a Miss Sharp--but

she is only twenty-three--plain though, Maurice says, and wears horn

spectacles--that should not attract me! She makes bandages all the

evening, but is obliged to work for her living so could come for the

day. She is not out of a job, because she is very expert, but she does

not like her present one. I would have to pay her very highly Maurice

says--I don't mind that, I want the best.--I had better see Miss Sharp,

and judge if I can stand her. She may have a personality I could not

work with. Maurice must bring her to-morrow.

The news to-night is worse.--The banks have sent away all their

securities.--But I shall not leave--one might as well die in a

bombardment as any other way. The English Consul has to know all the

names of the English residents in case of evacuation. But I will not go.

Bertha is making a most fiendish noise, there were two raids last

night,--and she began at six this morning--one gets little sleep. I have

a one horse Victoria now, driven by Methusala; I picked Maurice up at

the Ritz this evening at nine o'clock--there was not a human soul to be

seen in the Rue de la Paix, or the Place Vendôme, or the Rue

Castiglione--a city of the dead--And the early June sky full of peace

and soft light.

What does it all mean?