[About Morris.] ... To-day at breakfast came Morris and he talked hard all morning while I drew. What did we talk of? Mostly of one subject one of us started - why the mediaeval world was on the side of the Trojans. We quarrelled a good deal and often he said, "Look here, Ned, that's all gammon, you know," and I said, being more polite, "Pardon me, you are quite wrong there; the fact of the matter is - " And sometimes we were both polite and he would say, "there's a good deal in that," and I would say, "Yes, you are quite right." All that was very pleasant and lasted for hours - but I had a great advantage over him, for I knew about Quintus Smyrneus and he didn't. It was wonderful how much I based on a thorough knowledge of Quintus Smyrneus. Indeed I don't know why I ever stopped - and could easily have lasted till now, and now it is seven o'clock and he had to go his fat ways. To lunch came Lady - and sat in the garden studio afterwards ... and she was bitter about the world for being worldly - which is like saying a man is manly - or a beast beastly. It can't help it, poor thing - but I always thought her kind of fashionable. However, she would have none of it. and I didn't defend it, you may imagine; and I liked the morning best, but chiefly because Morris knew nothing whatever about Quintus Smyrneus - and how Penthesilea came to be tenderly dealt with in ancient tales and tapestries. I said, "Of course he is a source of all that part of Colonna's romance." He had to say "Oh!" I said, "I wonder you never came across it anyway - it makes an essential link in the chain, I assure you." It wasn't happy for him, was it? All morning through we never mentioned one living person: we never got to speak of anyone later than the ninth century. ... He was quite happy, only bothered by Smyrneus - he could never bear to be introduced to any new person, and I had to introduce him. ...