On
dark days he works by a gas jet--and then Rembrandt would enjoy
painting him. I look at him whenever my world is particularly awry,
and find him highly beneficial. Davison has forwarded me to-day two
letters from readers of 'Lynwood.' The first is from an irate
female who takes me to task for the dangerous tendency of the story,
and insists that I have drawn impossible circumstances and
impossible characters. The second is from an old clergyman, who
writes a pathetic letter of thanks, and tells me that it is almost
word for word the story of a son of his who died five years ago.
Query: shall I send the irate female the old man's letter, and save
myself the trouble of writing? But on the whole I think not; it
would be pearls before swine. I will write to her myself. Glad to
see you whenever you can run down.
"Yours ever,
"D. V."
("Never struck me before what pious initials mine are.")
The very evening I received this letter I happened to be dining at
the Probyn's. As luck would have it, pretty Miss Freda was staying
in the house, and she fell to my share. I always liked her, though
of late I had felt rather angry with her for being carried away by
the general storm of admiration and swept by it into an engagement
with Lawrence Vaughan.
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