Our party was augmented by a celebrated judge, and some other lawyers. We
had been told he was most learned and a wonderful wit, and someone we
should see as a representative American; half the people said he was a
"crook," and the other half that he was the "only straight" judge; and when
I asked what a "crook" was, our host told me the word explained itself, but
that you would be called a crook by all the trusts if you gave judgment
against them, just as, if you let them off, you would be the only honest
judge. So whatever you were called did not amount to anything! The Judge
was much younger than our judges, and had a moustache, and looked just like
ordinary people, and not a bit dignified.

As he has to deliver long speeches when he is judging, one would have
thought he might have liked a little rest and light conversation when he
came out to lunch, especially as every man likes to talk to Octavia and me;
but not a bit of it, he continued to lay down the law in a didactic way so
that no one else could speak. He did not even pretend to be interested in
us. What he said was all quite clever and splendidly put, but having to
show politeness and listen with one's fork suspended in the air, lets the
food get cold, and as it was excellent, all sorts of lovely American
dishes, at last I just attended to that, and did not hear some of his
speeches.

The band suddenly stopped and Octavia's voice saying, "Indeed" (all she
could get in) rang out like the man on the Lusitania shouting orders down
the megaphone; and when we got outside we all felt deaf and had sore
throats.

The intense relief to come here out of all noise or hustle, to Valerie
Latour's for Sunday! But I am so tired now I will finish this to-morrow.