day in Cambridge was like'an explosion for which the fuse had been burning through four slow, slow years, For a while I couldn't see myself for the smoke, nor feel anything for the bruises, but after two months as a guest of the Marples, I got my bearings; I mean I got some bearings,—whether they're mine or not remains to be seen. I came to the conclusion—don't smile—that the vein of discontent in me may be a vein of precious ore. After the shaft is sunk it may turn out that there's no gold there at all, but till I'm certain of that I can't settle down to a life of—tin. When I was sixteen, and bad at algebra, you used to say to me—and how I hated you for it—'work it out for yourself.' Well, bless your heart, I am!
"Circumstances—Geoffrey, there's an old woman sitting beside me who's spoiling this whole lovely trip for me; she can't hang on to a bloody thing; I just picked up her Baedeker for her and she said she had a daughter who graduated from Vassar and writes for the Ladies Home Journal, and don't you think it's a dirty trick to interrupt this letter like that? If I'd been the kind of man I hope to become, I'd have told her to go walk around the deck seven times. What I was saying, circumstances were all against this experiment,—and if she butts in again I'll go down to my cabin (minimum price and stuffy) and finish this there, even if it makes me seasick. The first circumstance was poverty. After Mr. Marple had sold the house there was enough all told to yield me about
