‘That would have grieved Jarvis. “Poor old Alice!” Her brother Roddy came to her and demanded tea, and asked her to state a case. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. After all, why need one look down. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar thing.
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