an article about Karolides, the Greek Premier. I rather fancied the
chap. From all accounts he seemed the one big man in the show;
and he played a straight game too, which was more than could be
said for most of them. I gathered that they hated him pretty blackly
in Berlin and Vienna, but that we were going to stick by him, and
one paper said that he was the only barrier between Europe and
Armageddon. I remember wondering if I could get a job in those
parts. It struck me that Albania was the sort of place that might
keep a man from yawning.

About six o'clock I went home, dressed, dined at the Cafe Royal,
and turned into a music-hall. It was a silly show, all capering
women and monkey-faced men, and I did not stay long. The night
was fine and clear as I walked back to the flat I had hired near
Portland Place. The crowd surged past me on the pavements, busy
and chattering, and I envied the people for having something to
do. These shop-girls and clerks and dandies and policemen had
some interest in life that kept them going. I gave half-a-crown to a
beggar because I saw him yawn; he was a fellow-sufferer. At Oxford
Circus I looked up into the spring sky and I made a vow. I would
give the Old Country another day to fit me into something; if
nothing happened, I would take the next boat for the Cape.

My flat was the first floor in a new block behind Langham Place.
There was a common staircase, with a porter and a liftman at the
entrance, but there was no restaurant or anything of that sort, and
each flat was quite shut off from the others. I hate servants on the
premises, so I had a fellow to look after me who came in by the
day. He arrived before eight o'clock every morning and used to
depart at seven, for I never dined at home.