_September 1st._
_Dear Guy,_
_I have taken a few days to think over the extraordinary news you
have seen fit to communicate. I hope I am not so far removed from
sympathy with your aspirations as not to be able to understand
almost anything you might have to tell me about yourself. But this
I confess defeats my best intentions, setting as it does a crown on
all the rest of your acts of folly. I tried to believe that your
desire to write poetry was merely a passing whim. I tried to think
that your tenancy of this house was not the behaviour of a
thoughtless and wilful young man. I was most anxious, as I clearly
showed (i) by my gift of L150 (ii) by my offer of a post at Fox
Hall, to put myself in accord with your ambition; and now you write
and tell me after a year's unprofitable idling that you are engaged
to be married! I admit as a minute point in your favour you do not
suggest that I should help you to tie yourself for life to the
fancy of a young man of just twenty-three. Little did I think when
I wrote to wish you many happy returns of the 20th of August,
although you had previously disappointed me by your refusal to help
me out of a nasty difficulty, little did I think that my answer was
going to be this piece of reckless folly. May I ask what her
parents are thinking of, or are they so blinded by your charms as
to be willing to allow this daughter of theirs to wait until the
income you make by selling your poetry enables you to get married?
I gathered from your description of Mr. Grey that he was an
extremely unpractical man; and his attitude towards your engagement
certainly bears me out. I suppose I shall presently get a post-card
to say that you are married on your income of L150, which by the
way in the present state of affairs is very likely soon to be less.
You invite me to come and stay with you before term begins in order
to meet the young lady to whom with extremely bad taste you
jocularly allude as my 'future daughter-in-law.' Well, I accept
your invitation, but I warn you that I shall give myself the
unpleasant task of explaining to your 'future father-in-law,' as I
suppose you would not blush to call him, what an utterly unreliable
fellow you are and how in every way you have disappointed_
_Your affectionate father