to put down that story. I have no scruples; I do things; but I sometimes hate myself for a little while when I think about them afterward.
I got on very well with Maud to-night. Her father and Lady Merrick both like me, I think. The dinner itself was capital, and I was in a good talking mood. But I am getting into the habit of bringing out my impromptus a little too quickly. A slight pause makes them look more natural; if the pause is too long they seem labored and not really impromptu. It is not an easy thing to get quite right; I must practise it. When one dines with the Merricks, I find that one has to be kind to the Birnleys. That is a little hard on me, because I hate the nouveau riche, and also because I have some particularly smart things ready to say about the Birnleys. However, Maud will have it so. She says that they are awfully good-hearted people, and not really vulgar, but only a little ignorant, and that they are sensitive and quick to see when a jest is aimed at them. (Mem.—Work off the smart things in a sketch of the nouveau riche. Found it on the Birnleys and describe their country-house. Tell the story of how Birnley shot the keeper.) Maud sang one song to-night—some Italian thing, I don't know the name. She has a fine contralto.
I walked back with Thorn, and we talked about old college days together. That man is
