Chapter 35

I received the Jermyn Street programme, but have hardly yet considered it, for I was all day on the sofa on Tuesday and Wednesday. Bad though I was, I thought with constant pleasure of your very great kindness in offering to read the proofs of my essay on man. I do not know whether I said anything which might have appeared like a hint, but I assure you that such a thought had never even momentarily passed through my mind. Your offer has just made all the difference, that I can now write, whether or no my essay is ever printed, with a feeling of satisfaction instead of vague dread.

Beg my colleague, Mrs. Huxley, not to forget the corrugator supercilii: it will not be easy to catch the exact moment when the child is on the point of crying, and is struggling against the wrinkling up [of] its little eyes; for then I should expect the corrugator, from being little under the command of the will, would come into play in checking or stopping the wrinkling. An explosion of tears would tell nothing.