there to take a little refreshment. I was somewhat dismayed at my
appearance on looking in the glass: the cold wind had swelled and
reddened my hands, uncurled and entangled my hair, and dyed my face
of a pale purple; add to this my collar was horridly crumpled, my
frock splashed with mud, my feet clad in stout new boots, and as
the trunks were not brought up, there was no remedy; so having
smoothed my hair as well as I could, and repeatedly twitched my
obdurate collar, I proceeded to clomp down the two flights of
stairs, philosophizing as I went; and with some difficulty found my
way into the room where Mrs. Bloomfield awaited me.

She led me into the dining-room, where the family luncheon had been
laid out. Some beefsteaks and half-cold potatoes were set before
me; and while I dined upon these, she sat opposite, watching me (as
I thought) and endeavouring to sustain something like a
conversation--consisting chiefly of a succession of commonplace
remarks, expressed with frigid formality: but this might be more
my fault than hers, for I really could NOT converse. In fact, my
attention was almost wholly absorbed in my dinner: not from
ravenous appetite, but from distress at the toughness of the
beefsteaks, and the numbness of my hands, almost palsied by their
five-hours' exposure to the bitter wind. I would gladly have eaten
the potatoes and let the meat alone, but having got a large piece
of the latter on to my plate, I could not be so impolite as to
leave it; so, after many awkward and unsuccessful attempts to cut
it with the knife, or tear it with the fork, or pull it asunder
between them, sensible that the awful lady was a spectator to the
whole transaction, I at last desperately grasped the knife and fork
in my fists, like a child of two years old, and fell to work with
all the little strength I possessed. But this needed some apology-