Well, that was tedious, brother dear. And I am not just referring to the play. Your Lord D_ is a dullard amongst dullards. It is as if he exhales stupidity on all around him. I felt as if he were a succubus of thought, sucking even me dry. And speaking of which, your plan is far too easy. We were in one another's company in the WC and he did look, though did not touch. As to him, Lady D_ must be a remarkable gardener to gather sap from such a withered tree.
No, your little amusement does not amuse me. Do it yourself for England's glory. Once more unto that breach, n'est-ce pas? The exercise will do you good.
Though I must thank you on one account. I have been out of London society for far too long. Who was that gentleman with the imaginary limp who was applauded when he entered the theater? He was not nobility. His chin is far too strong for that. Of a modestly prepossessing appearance, but unremarkable and rather short. A soldier, that much was obvious, and displaying his tanned skin for all the world to see. Yet none of that explains the deference granted him. One passes ruined soldiers begging for alms in the street at every turn and they are not so honored. And indeed, the praise made him most ill at ease. It is clear he is not rich, nor particularly well connected in London, for if he were who would let him go forth dressed such? Yet, the ladies were nearly swooning at his feet. A most curious figure.
Must close. Have acquired several new specimens to dissect.
Adieu, yr. affectionate brother,
SH
Baker Street, 7th April, 17**
