Ponsford is getting old, and leaves the executive to his lieutenants.

He sits aloft like Zeus, hurls a thunderbolt now and then, and for the rest acts as a supreme court of appeal.

Bickers, my opposite neighbour, is still a thorn in my side.

I don't know how it is, I try all I know, but I can't get on with him, and have given him up.

Moss, I believe, who is Master of the Shell and head of a house, has come to the end of his endurance, and there is some talk of his throwing up his place here.