Also I have discovered--out here--I believe, darling, you have known it all along!--that there is at the very root of me a kind of savage--a creature that hates fish-knives and finger-glasses and dressing for dinner--the things I have done all my life, and Arthur Delaine will go on doing all his.

Also that I never want to see a museum again--at least, not for a long time; and that I don't care twopence whether Herculaneum is excavated or not! "Isn't it shocking?
I can't explain myself; and poor Mr.Arthur evidently can't make head or tail of me, and thinks me a little mad.

So I am, in a sense.

I am suffering from a new kind of _folie des grandeurs_.

The world has suddenly grown so big; everything in the human story--all its simple fundamental things at least--is writ so large here.