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126 My Wonderful Visit Just imagine, Barrie has asked me to play Peter Pan ! It is too big and grand to risk spoiling it by some chance witless observation, so I change the subject and let this golden opportunity pass. I have failed completely in my first skirmish with Barrie. There are laboured jokes going the rounds of the table and everyone seems to feel conscious of some duty that is resting on his shoulders ungracefully. One ruddy gentleman whose occupation is a most serious one, I am told, that of building a giant memorial in Whitehall to the dead of the late War, is reacting to the situation most flippantly. His conversation, which has risen to a pitch of almost hysterical volume, is most ridiculously comic. He is a delightful buffoon. Everyone is laughing at his chatter, but nothing seems to be penetrating my stupidity, though I am carrying with me a wide mechanical grin, which I broaden and narrow with the nuances of the table laughing. I feel utterly out of the picture, that I don't belong, that there must be something signifi- cant in the badinage that is bandied about the board. Barrie is speaking again about moving pictures. I must understand. I summon all of my scattered faculties to bear upon what he is saying. What a peculiarly shaped head he has. He is speaking of " The Kid," and I feel that he is trying to flatter me. But how he does it! He is criticising the picture. He is very severe. He declares that the