The diary which Teixeira kept for me during my absence in South America
was, so far as I am aware, his first venture in this kind of literature.
Approaching it with trepidation, he abandoned it with loathing. The
mystery of a double cash-column quickly palled; and he was not long
intrigued even by printed reminders of the moon’s phases and of the days
on which dividends and insurance-policy renewals became due.