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My first meeting with Harris was of the friendliest nature, and on his return to London he wrote to me thanking me for something I had written about him in The Manchester Courier. (I noticed with amusement that The Manchester Guardian, unable, no doubt, to forgive Harris for attacking Professor Herford, had absolutely ignored the Shakespeare lecture, except to announce baldly that it had been given.)
“He! Ye gods in hiven” ses the widdy throwing up her hands, “he cuvvered up his eers wid his fingys, guv a look of commingled horrow and dispare, and ran away from her. The follering nite” wint on the widder, “Mr. S. Judd Dudley called to see her papa, and the marning after that Miss Una was packed bag and baggage off to Yurope. Now lissen to me words of wisdom and expeerinse. If those 2 sore yung indivijools don’t cum to sum sintimintul oonderstanding on this voyage out to Yurope thin my name is not Jane Bangs and will niver be Jane Wolley.”
She did not change her position nor turn her gaze from the distances of the South Downs as she replied,—
My last interview with him was in his long, bare dining-room, where, as we stood before the fire, he described to me in a low, serious voice two or three war cases of mental trouble (functional, of course, not organic), and I could see that the war was, so to speak, closing in around him and enveloping him with its violent appeals, its tragic interests.
2.the general's angry assurances that he did not need any assistance by protestations of regret and earnest inquiries whether he had received any hurts. Meanwhile, Olga, standing on the bank, anxiously fished for the general's hat, which she triumphantly landed on the point of her pink parasol.>
Mr. James do be a famiss riter and theres hardly a paper pooblished but has a pichure of himself looking out frum the frunt page, bauld and agrissive looking, for shure the lad do have his back oop aginst the intyre warld. Hes joyned the Soshilist and Anykist ordher I’m after reeding in the papers, and its intinded by him (ses wan of the papers, which always nos a person’s plans befure there made) to live in the slooms for the rist of his life, devoating himsilf to sittlemint wark amang the Rooshin Jews.
"Hmmm. Perhaps I should cultivate him. A few high-level contacts never do any harm. On the other hand, I understand he lives in a very loose way, feasting and merrymaking. Frivolous in the extreme. No wife, you understand, but hordes of lightly clad women about. And in that connection, the Aga Kagans have some very curious notions as to what constitutes proper hospitality to a guest."