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You can prowl about the garden, poke your nose
into the pantry and learn, if it amuses you, all about my private life.
But if you rent a high attic overlooking my premises and stair out of
your window all day long, watching my movements and noting down
everything I do, why, damn it, I call that vulgar. Staring is bad form.
Vertical gods are inquisitive. I don't like to be supervised. I don't
care about this DOSSIER business. My garden is for you and me to walk
about in, not for outsiders to stare into. Which reminds me that you
have not been to see me lately. You ought to come and look at my
cannas; you really ought! They are in magnificent bloom just now. When
shall it be?"
Mr. Keith seemed to be already tired of the subject. In fact he was as
near being bored as ever he allowed himself to be. But the other
refused to let the conversation be side-tracked. He wanted to know.
"Vertical and horizontal gods. . . . Dear me. Sounds rather profane."
"I have not heard that word for quite a long time.


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