Apr 5
He was alone when I came, peeling a plover's egg taken from the large nest of moss in the centre of the table.
"I've just counted them," he said. "There were five each and two over, so I'm having the two. I'm unaccountably hungry to-day. I put myself unreservedly in the hands of Dolbear and Goodall, and feel so drugged that I've begun to believe that the whole of yesterday evening was a dream. Please don't wake me up."
He was magically beautiful, with that epicene quality which in extreme youth sings aloud for love and withers at the first cold wind.