impression he made on me, or would make on any one, was that of a very
great gentleman indeed. Not of an old gentleman, either. Sparse and
straggling though the grey hair was that fringed the immense pale dome
of his head, and venerably haloed though he was for me by his
greatness, there was yet about him something--boyish? girlish?
childish, rather; something of a beautifully well-bred child. But he
had the eyes of a god, and the smile of an elf. In figure, at first
glance, he seemed almost fat; but this was merely because of the way
he carried himself, with his long neck strained so tightly back that
he all receded from the waist upwards. I noticed afterwards that this
deportment made the back of his jacket hang quite far away from his
legs; and so small and sloping were his shoulders that the jacket
seemed ever so likely to slip right off. I became aware, too, that
when he bowed he did not unbend his back, but only his neck--the
length of the neck accounting for the depth of the bow. His hands were
tiny, even for his size, and they fluttered helplessly, touchingly,
unceasingly.

Directly after my introduction, we sat down to the meal. Of course I
had never hoped to `get into touch with him' reciprocally. Quite apart
from his deafness, I was too modest to suppose he could be interested
in anything I might say. But--for I knew he had once been as high and
copious a singer in talk as in verse--I had hoped to hear utterances
from him. And it did not seem that my hope was to be fulfilled. Watts-
Dunton sat at the head of the table, with a huge and very Tupperesque
joint of roast mutton in front of him, Swinburne and myself close up
to him on either side. He talked only to me. This was the more
tantalising because Swinburne seemed as though he were bubbling over
with all sorts of notions. Not that he looked at either of us. He
smiled only to himself, and to his plateful of meat, and to the small