Often, of an evening, I will settle down in an arm-chair in my club, to read the paper. Scarecely has John seen me, when he will draw up his chair beside mine, and begin a conversation in this way: "I may be right, or I may be wrong," he will say, "but there is one thing that I must admit, and it is that I think that Mary must be the prettiest girl in the world. Neverhave I known a woman like her. What! You have never met her? It surprises me to think that a person of her charms can be unknown to anyone. You must meet her. So must all the other members of the club. I am going to tell you something about her, if I may."
Seldom will he spare me this ordeal of listning to him. Nor will he take a hint. I can snub him, of course. But usually, I have not the heart to. Sometimes I go to the length of saying, "Look here, old man, I had rather read. So run off and play,there's a good chap!" But it is useless to try and get rid of him. Never has there beena man as thick-skinned as he.
Why will heharp on the subject of that woman? There really seems to be no way of stopping him. Need he really talk so much about her? Must that be the price we have to pay for his otherwise very charming company. He should remember that there is a limit to the privileges of friendship; and that friends should not turn themselves into interminable bores. There ought to be a law agaist it! Personally, if I am to sit and listen to him all day, then there is only one thing for me to do, though I had rather not. I must change my club. After all, I am not interested in the woman. Still less am I in love with her. They say that love is blind. I suppose it is true that it is. And I have good reason, also, to feel that it is a pity that it cannot be dumb as well! Of course, I dare not say all this to his face. Naturally, I must not do anything to hurt his feelings. In any case, I had rather not. It is notorious that everybody is complaining about him. Seldom, howerever, will he take any notice of the complaints. He will talk on and on, for hours on end, about her; and he will not stop, in spite of the broadest hints. He had better be careful. If not, he may lose all his best friends. There is a limit to human endurance, and he cannot expect people to put up with that kind of thing or ever. Why, indeed, should they? He ought to know by now that they will not stand it, and that they had sooner lose his friendship. And a man should not risk alienating his friends. Least of all dare he risk isolating himself altogether. Friends can be very useful, on occasion. I think that I had better tell him, as a friend, that he ought to have mercy on us, and that he should keep his rhapsodies to himself. I had sooner not say all this to him, of course. But I feel that these intimate private emotions should not be blazoned forth in public. Even if one is in love, one need not shout it to the skies. Under no circumstances should one wear one's heart on one's sleeve. It is simply not done. And I am sure he can exercise a little self-restraint, if he wants to.
Thank you so much. My text is really very long. I should split it in smaller pieces.