which I wrote this morning. I like to register
impressions while they are fresh. Once a day at least
I endeavor to define my own mental position. It is a
useful piece of self-analysis, and has, I fancy, a
steadying effect upon the character. Frankly, I must
confess that my own needs what stiffening I can give
it. I fear that, after all, much of my neurotic
temperament survives, and that I am far from that cool,
calm precision which characterizes Murdoch or Pratt-
Haldane. Otherwise, why should the tomfoolery which I
have witnessed this evening have set my nerves
thrilling so that even now I am all unstrung? My only
comfort is that neither Wilson nor Miss Penclosa nor
even Agatha could have possibly known my weakness.

And what in the world was there to excite me? Nothing,
or so little that it will seem ludicrous when I set it
down.

The Mardens got to Wilson's before me. In fact, I was
one of the last to arrive and found the room crowded.
I had hardly time to say a word to Mrs. Marden and to
Agatha, who was looking charming in white and pink,
with glittering wheat-ears in her hair, when Wilson
came twitching at my sleeve.

"You want something positive, Gilroy," said he, drawing
me apart into a corner. "My dear fellow, I have a
phenomenon--a phenomenon!"