I conveyed to him politely, although he is an old friend, that I desired
to forget his well-fed existence. In his chatty way he requested me not
to be an ass, and proceeded to put to me the usual silly questions.
Remembering the result of my last visit, I made him happy by answering
them gloomily; whereupon he seized his opportunity and ordered me out
of England for the winter. I must go to a warm climate--Egypt, South
Africa, Madeira--I could take my choice. I flatly refused to obey. I had
my duties in London. He was so unsympathetic as to damn my duties. My
duty was to live as long as possible, and my wintering in London would
probably curtail my short life by two months. Then I turned on him
and explained the charitable disingenuousness of my replies to
his questions. He refused to believe me, and we parted with mutual
recriminations. I sent him next day, however, a brace of pheasants, a
present from Farfax Glenn. After all, he is one of God's creatures.
The next time I called on Lola Brandt I went with the fixed
determination to make some progress in my mission.
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