Certain Personal Matters
Certain Personal Matters
Book Excerpt
. But
sometimes Euphemia gets hold of some still untorn, and says in her
dictatorial way that they have to be answered--insists--says I must.
Yet she knows that nothing fills me with a livelier horror than having
to answer letters. It paralyses me. I waste whole days sometimes
mourning over the time that I shall have to throw away presently,
answering some needless impertinence--requests for me to return books
lent to me; reminders from the London Library that my subscription is
overdue; proposals for me to renew my ticket at the stores--Euphemia's
business really; invitations for me to go and be abashed before
impertinent distinguished people: all kinds of bothering things.
And speaking of letters and invitations brings me round to friends. I dislike most people; in London they get in one's way in the street and fill up railway carriages, and in the country they stare at you--but I hate my friends. Yet Euphemia says I must "keep up" my friends. They would be all very we
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The Logiston blog and I have been publishing snippets from this collection of essays. See here (on golfers) and here (on dedications).
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