drinking-fountain. Believing it to be appendicitis, I demanded a
chirurgeon, but nobody could spell the word. The slightest movement,
however, spelt anguish without a mistake. My scruff was in the grip of
Torment. Observing that I was helpless, the woman, my wife, summoned a
hackney carriage and drove off, taunting and jeering at her spouse. By
this time my screams had attracted the attention of a few passers-by.
Some stood apparently egg-bound, others hurried away, doubtless to
procure assistance. One fool asked me if I was ill. I told him that I
had been dead for some days, and asked him if he knew of a good florist,
as I wanted them to send no flowers. Had it not been for Madge
Willoughby, I should have been there now._

_Organized bodies of navvies are slowly but surely ruining the streets.
No efforts are made to stop them, and the police seem powerless to
interfere._

_There is no room in London. I never remember when there was. But don't
you come. The air is the purer for your absence, and your silk hats seem
to fit me better than my own. My love for Jill is only exceeded by my
hatred of you and my contempt for Jonah. I have much more to say, but I
have, thank Heaven, something better to do than to communicate with a
debauched connection, whose pleasure has ever been my pain, and from
whom I have learned more vicious ways than I can remember. For I am by
nature a little child. Just before and after rain you may still see
traces of the halo which I bought at Eastbourne in '94. My gorge is
rising, so I must write no more._

_BERRY._

"What's muscular rheumatism?" said Jill, gurgling with laughter.