This letter is now waiting to go off. Celia says it is waiting for a
stamp. Personally I don't see the necessity for a stamp.


II.

There are people in the world called owners. I think nothing of them;
Celia thinks nothing of them; jointly we do not think anything of
them. However, as I said before, this is not a grammar.

For the last two years we have been renting cottages. Naturally Celia
has had to do most of the work; the cut and thrust of a soldier's life
has prevented me from taking my share of it. I have been so busy, off
and on, seeing that my fellow-soldiers have baths, getting them shaved
and entreating them to send their socks to the wash that I have had no
time for domestic trifles. Celia has taken the cottage; I have merely
allotted the praise or blame afterwards. I have also, of course, paid
the money.

Our landlords have varied, but they are all alike in this. They think
much more of their own comfort as landlords than of our happiness as
tenants. They are always wanting things done for them. When they want
things done for them, then I am firm. Indeed I am granite.

Take the case of Mr. Perkins, who owns our present cottage. Celia
borrowed the cottage from Mr. Perkins at a rental of several thousands
a week. I said it was too much when I heard of it; but it was then too
late--she had already been referred to hereinafter as the tenant. As
soon as we got in we began to make it look more like a cottage; that