ABSTRACT
Hardy came up and sate down the other side of me. I make it a rule never to introduce myself to the notice of distinguished men, unless they recognise me; Hardy had looked at me, then looked away, suffused by a misty smile, and I presently gathered that this was a recognition – he seemed hurt by my not speaking to him. [...] Then we had an odd triangular talk. Hardy could not hear what H.J. said, nor H.J. what Hardy said; and I had to try and keep the ball going. I felt like Alice between the two Queens. Hardy talked rather interestingly of Newman. [...] He said very firmly that N. was no logician; that the Apologia was simply a poet’s work, with a kind of lattice-work of logic in places to screen the poetry.1 We talked of Maxime Du Camp and Flaubert,2 and H.J. delivered himself very oracularly on the latter. Then Hardy went away wearily and kindly (pp. 81-2).
