for ten minutes to hold some poor fellow's hand. 10 Yes, I suppose they have their uses—there are a horde of them, anyway. To-morrow Maurice is bringing another specimen to divert me—American this time—over here for "war work." Maurice says one of the cleverest adventuresses he has ever met; and I am still irresistible, he assures me, so I must be careful—(for am I not disgustingly rich!) Burton is sixty years old—He is my earliest recollection. Burton knows the world. Friday—The American adventuress delighted me. She was so shrewd. Her eyes are cunning and evil—her flesh is round and firm, she is not extremely painted, and her dresses are quite six inches below her knees. She has two English peers in tow, and any casual Americans of note whom she can secure who will give11 her facilities in life. She, also, is posing for a 'lady' and 'a virtuous woman,' and an ardent war worker. 11 All these parasites are the product of the war, though probably they always existed, but the war has been their glorious chance. There is a new verb in America, Maurice says—"To war work"—It means to get to Paris, and have a splendid time. Their toupé is surprising! To hear this one talk one would think she ruled all the politics of the allies, and directed each General. Are men fools?—Yes, imbeciles—they cannot see the wiles of woman. Perhaps I could not when I was a human male whom they could love! Love?—did I say love? Is there such a thing?—or is it only a sex excitement for the moment!—That at all events is the sum of what these creatures know. Do they ever think?—I mean beyond planning some fresh adventure for themselves, or how to secure some fresh benefit. I cannot now understand how a man ever marries one of them, gives his name and his honour into such precarious keeping. Once I suppose I should have been as easy a prey as the rest. But not now—I have too much time to think, I fear. I seem to find some ulterior motive in whatever people say or do. To-day
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