m, in which I propose to work, may be the least squiggly of the
three, but it _must_ be inspiring, otherwise the landlord may not obtain
his rent. The kitchen arrangements do not interest me greatly, but they
will interest the cook, and for this reason should be as delightful as
possible; after which warning anybody with a really bad basement on his
hands will see the wisdom of retiring from the _queue_ and letting the
next man move up one. The bathroom should have plenty of space, not only
for the porcelain bath which it will be expected to contain, but also
(as is sometimes forgotten) for the bather after he or she has stepped
out of the bath. The fireplaces should not be, as they generally are,
utterly beastly. Owners of utterly beastly fireplaces may also move out
of the queue, but they should take their places up at the end again in
case they are wanted; for, if things were satisfactory otherwise, their
claims might be considered, since even the beastliest fireplace can be
dug out at the owner's expense and replaced with something tolerable.

"A little garden would be liked. At any rate there must be a view of
trees, whether one's own or somebody else's.

"As regards position, the house must be in London. I mean really in
London. I mean really in central London. The outlying portions of
Kensington, such as Ealing, Hanwell and Uxbridge, are no good.
Cricklewood, Highgate, New Barnet and similar places near Portman Square
are useless. It must be in London--in the middle of London.

"Now we come to rather an important matter. Rent. It is up to you to say
how much you want; but let me give you one word of warning. Don't be
absurd. You aren't dealing now with one of those profiteers who remained
(with honour) in his own country. And you can have our flat in exchange,
if you like--well, it isn't ours really, it's the landlord's, but we
will introduce you to him without commission. Anyway, don't be afraid of
saying what you want; if it is absurd (and I expect it will be) we will
tell you so. And if you _must_ have a lump sum instead of an annual one,
well, perhaps we could manage to borrow it (from you or somebody); but
smaller annual lumps would be preferred."

When I had written it out I handed it to Celia.

"There you are," I said, "and, speaking as an artist, I don't see how I
can make it a word shorter."

She read it carefully through.

"It does sound a jolly house," she said wistfully. "Would it cost a lot
as