To-night we leave for Marseilles. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. They had got all this down already—they heard the substance of it now for the fourteenth time. My own impression is that he already knows. “My God!” he said again. Ah, these English! They travelled all over, up and down the world, not to acquire information but rather to leave the impress of their superiority as a race. The Goopes were the oddest little couple conceivable, following a fruitarian career upon an upper floor in Theobald’s Road. Latterly I’ve been doing things.
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