He was interested in socialism and its bewildering ramifications,
but only as an analytical student. He could fit himself into any
environment, interview a prime minister in the afternoon and take
potluck that night with the anarchist who was planning to blow up
the prime minister.

Burlingame, an intimate, often exposed for Kitty's delectation the
amazing and colourful facets of Cutty's diamond-brilliant mind.
Cutty wrote authoritatively on famous gems and collected drums.
He had one of the finest collections of chrysoprase in the world.
He loved these semi-precious stones because of their unmatchable,
translucent green - like the pulp of a grape. From Burlingame
Kitty had learned that Cutty, rather indifferent to women, carried
about with him the photographs - large size - of famous professional
beauties and a case filled with polished chrysoprase. He would lay
a photograph on a table and adorn the lovely throat with astonishing
necklaces and the head with wonderful tiaras, all the while his
brain at work with some intricate political puzzle.

And he collected drums. The walls of his apartment - part of the
loft of a midtown office building - were covered with a most
startling assortment of drums: drums of war, of the dance, of the
temples of the feast, ancient and modern, some of them dreadful
looking objects, as Kitty had cause to remember.

Though Cutty had known her father and mother intimately, Kitty was
a comparative stranger. He recollected seeing her perhaps a dozen
times. She had been a shy child, not given to climbing over
visitors' knees; not the precocious offspring of the average