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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
129
He
next
offered
me
a
cigarette,
which
I
took
and
lit.
It
was
a
Turkish
cigarette
with
one
end
plugged
up
with
cotton-wool--to
absorb
the
nicotine--a,
thing
I've
never
seen
before.
I
was
so
flurried
at
the
time
that
I
did
not
notice
this
and
lit
the
wrong
end.
With
perfect
ease
and
self-possession,
the
Honourable
One
pointed
out
my
error
to
me
and
told
me
to
throw
the
cigarette
away
and
have
another.
By
this
time
I
had
completely
lost
my
nerve.
My
pride,
chagrin,
excessive
self-consciousness
were
entangling
all
my
movements
in
the
meshes
of
a
net.
Failing
to
tumble
to
the
situation,
I
inquired,
"Why
the
wrong
end?
Is
there
a
right
and
a
wrong
end?"
Lord
----'s
son
and
heir
pointed
out
the
cotton-wool
end,
now
blackened
by
my
match.
"That
didn't
burn
very
well,
did
it?"
I
was
bound
to
confess
that
it
did
not,
and
threw
the
smoke
away
under
the
impression
that
these
wonderful
cigarettes
with
right
and
wrong
ends
must
be
some
special
brand
sold
only
to
aristocrats,
and
at
a
great
price,
and
possessing
some
secret
virtue.
Once
again,
handsome
Mr.
----
drew
out
his
silver
cigarette-case,
selected
a
second
cigarette
for
me,
and
held
it
towards
me
between
his
long
delicate
fingers,
at
the
same
time
pointing
out
the
plug
at
one
end
and
making
a
few
staccato
remarks
which
I
could
not
catch.
I
was
still
too
scared
to
be
in
full
possession
of
my
faculties,
and
he
apparently
was
too
tired
to
be
explicit
to
a
member
of
the
bourgeoisie,
stumbling
about
his
drawing-room.
The
cotton-wool
plug
only
suggested
to
me
some
sort
of
a
plot
on
the
part
of
a
dissolute
scion
of
a
noble
house
to
lure
me
into
one
of
his
bad
habits,
such
as
smoking
opium
or
taking
veronal.
I
again
prepared
to
light
the
cigarette
at
the
wrong
end.
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