TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS iii 



" If I am kept awake," answered Lamb, " there is 

 no difference between cats or nightingales." 



I opened my eyes in the morning with that sense of 

 wonder as to where one is. My ceihng seemed so very 

 high, my room so remarkably spacious. Down by 

 the river Cecily was conducting a primitive toilet, 

 sitting on a rock, combing her hair, a modern Undine. 

 She was lamenting to her brother that the lack of a 

 looking-glass made for slovenliness, and the difficulty 

 of " doing " one's hair by a sense of feel. 



" Haven't you got a transformation with you ? " 

 asked Kenneth, affecting to be helpful, not because he 

 cared a rap for her appearance, but because he was 

 anxious to show his grasp of technique. 



" Do you mean one of those busby-like arrangements 

 advertised by hairdressers in the ladies' papers ? " 

 I heard her reply, " You know quite well I have 

 plenty of hair of my own." 



Ali Ghirik slowly made the fire for our picnic 

 breakfast. He was inclined to be sulky because he 

 had made the discovery that the compass with which 

 we had provided him in order that he might at all 

 times ascertain the direction of Mecca was seriously 

 out of gear, and he had been praying towards a totally 

 opposed comer of the globe. 



I watched an impertinent little blue-tit restlessly 

 searching for insects. Every now and again he wrestled 

 with the loose bark of a fallen pine and extricated a 

 large fat grub, too big to swallow save in sections. 

 With each victim the feathered atom gained in self- 

 importance and the conceit of achievement, every flick 



