bumbling ... what I mean to say is you ought to sit down calmly and
read the book from cover to cover, as I am doing now.

For it isn't like a mere Street Directory, which puts all the plot
into watertight compartments, and where possibly all the people in
Azalea Terrace know each other by sight, even across the gap where it
says:--

_Here begins Aspidistra Avenue_, like the lessons in church.

Nor, again, is it like _Who's What_, where your imagination is
hampered and interfered with by other people butting in to tell
you that their recreations are dodging O.B.E.'s and the Income Tax
Commission. Publications: _Hanwell Men as I knew Them_. Club: The
Philanderers, and so forth. This cramps your style.

But the book before us now is pregnant with half-hidden romances,
which you can weave into any shape that you will, and, what is more,
it is written in a noble beautiful English which you have probably
never had time to master. I want you to do that now. Suppose, for
instance, that in private life your hostess introduced you to Museum
88901 Wilkinson Arthur Jas.--let us say at a Jazz tea. And suppose you
were to ask him what his business was, and he told you that he was
an Actnr and Srvyr or a Pprhngr. Probably you would be surprised;
possibly even you wouldn't believe him. But it's all there in the
book.

The type too is diversified by sudden changes which intrigue me
greatly. All over London I like to fancy little conversations of this
sort are going on:--