I had arrived by now in a small and ancient back street, not far from where we lived, where I had previously discovered an interesting junk shop. I had not been in the time before, but now I had some money on me and I thought I would go and buy something. It was a long time since I had bought anything. So I went in and started to look around: there were many flowery cheese dishes, of which I already possessed four, and I was wondering whether to add to my collection when I caught sight of a small pillar, which was supporting one end of a bench covered with old overpriced Woolworth’s glass dishes. It was a very nice slender small pillar, about three feet high, in an interesting gray marble and with a miniature Corinthian top. It seemed to have been somewhat abridged, but the proportions of it, as it stood, were very appealing. I did not think that anything so entirely useless could be very valuable, and I called for the proprietor, who was drinking tea in his back sitting room. I asked him if the pillar was for sale. Oh yes, he said, I could have it for fifteen pounds. Good heavens, I said, it didn’t look as though it was worth anything like that to me, whereat he said it was a very nice small pillar, very decorative, and what did I want it for? As I only wanted it because it was a nice small pillar and very decorative, I could not think of an answer, but I got him to move the bench off the top of it so that I could have a good look. He hung around all the time, saying things like “It’s a very good bit of marble, that” and “Could make a nice sundial, that could,” though the truth is that he could never before have tried to sell such an unsaleable object. The top was very rough, and covered with old plaster. I knew that I was going to buy it, I knew that I was even going to pay fifteen pounds for it if he made me, as I had already worked out that it would look very good underneath my marble bust of Lady Mary Wortley-Montagu. I felt crazy, and horribly in touch with my own craziness.

The poor man could not work out for what reason I could possibly want it, so he could not decide on a selling line. He kept mentioning gardens until I said that I had no garden, and then he was silenced. I asked him where it had come from. He was very cagey, and said he thought it had come from one of the big houses roundabouts and that he had had it for a long time.