"I met him at a country house in Shropshire. He came down rather late
for breakfast, and when he was asked how he was, he quoted something
about 'being apt to be rather fatigued with his night's rest.' I
remember it very clearly, because it struck me as being so pointless
at the time. He went out shooting most of the day, and I think,
as far as I can remember, he was a good shot. He smoked a fearful
amount, 'all the time,' in fact; they were always attacking him for
that. When he came in he used to have some tea in the nursery. We
found that out the last day—the children were sent for, and Mr.
Hamilton came down with them, looking rather sheepish, and saying
that he had tried sitting on at one side of the table, with the
nursery maid at the other, after the children had gone, but that
it didn't do. I remember we were very much amused at the idea;
the picture was such a ridiculous one.

"The children certainly seemed to like him extraordinarily—they
would talk to no one else: and I can't think why, because children
are so impressionable, and he had quite the gravest face I ever
saw—almost forbidding. However, so it was.

"He used to disappear to his room, to read and write, before dinner.
At dinner he was often very good fun. I have heard him tell some very
funny stories, not very racy perhaps, but amusing; and these, coming
from that grave face, were very ridiculous. He always made friends
with the younger ladies. He never seemed to flirt, and yet he used to
say things to them in public that even I felt inclined to pull him up
for. And then he used to ask them to go out walks with him, and,
what's more, he went out with certainly two, alone; and you know that
is rather a marked thing.