Man and Maid

"Shall I open the window, Sir Nicholas?"

"It is a beastly cold evening."

He put an extra log on the fire and threw the second casement wide.

"You'll enjoy your dinner better now, Sir," he said, and left me

shivering.

* * * * *

I wish I were a musician, I could play to myself. I have still my two

hands, though perhaps my left shoulder hurts too much to play often. My

one eye aches when I read for too long, and the stump below the knee is

too tender still to fit the false leg on to, and I cannot, because of my

shoulder, use my crutch overmuch, so walking is out of the question.

These trifles are perhaps, the cause of my ennui with life.

I suppose such women as those who came to-day fulfill some purpose in the

scheme of things. One can dine openly with them at the most exclusive

restaurant, and not mind meeting one's relations. They are rather more

expensive than the others--pearl necklaces--sables--essence for their

motor cars--these are their prices.--They are so decorative, too, and

before the war were such excellent tango partners. These three are all

of the best families, and their relations stick to them in the

background, so they are not altogether déclassé. Maurice says they are

the most agreeable women in Paris, and get the last news out of the

Generals. They are seen everywhere, and Coralie, the married one, wears

a Red Cross uniform sometimes at tea--if she happens to remember to go

into a hospital for ten minutes to hold some poor fellow's hand.

Yes, I suppose they have their uses--there are a horde of them, anyway.

To-morrow Maurice is bringing another specimen to divert me--American

this time--over here for "war work." Maurice says one of the cleverest

adventuresses he has ever met; and I am still irresistible, he assures

me, so I must be careful--(for am I not disgustingly rich!)

Burton is sixty years old--He is my earliest recollection. Burton knows

the world.

* * * * *

Friday--The American adventuress delighted me. She was so shrewd. Her

eyes are cunning and evil--her flesh is round and firm, she is not

extremely painted, and her dresses are quite six inches below her knees.

She has two English peers in tow, and any casual Americans of note whom

she can secure who will give her facilities in life. She, also, is

posing for a 'lady' and 'a virtuous woman,' and an ardent war worker.

All these parasites are the product of the war, though probably they

always existed, but the war has been their glorious chance. There is a

new verb in America, Maurice says--"To war work"--It means to get to

Paris, and have a splendid time.