“I saw Vita lunching at the Cafe Royal today” 
said Jack Hutchinson last night. 
Oh such a pang of rage shot through me! 
All through dinner, and through supper, 
which ended with champagne and iced cake at 12.30, 
I was going back and foraging in my mind for the seed in my pillow: 
(you know what I mean: the pea under the mattress) 
and that was it. And I couldn’t say “who was with her?” 
And it burnt a hole in my mind, 
that you should have been lunching at the Cafe Royal 
and not come to see me. How pleased you’ll be! 
You did it on purpose I daresay. But who were you with? 
You knew I should get wind of it – 
yes and it was a woman you were lunching with, 
and there was I, sitting alone and and and…I break off my writing, 
which is all dish water, to make this heated exclamation: 
And when shall I see you? Dearest Creature, 
do write and tell me who were you lunching with at the Cafe Royal – 
and I sitting alone over the fire! I’ve had your book [Collected Poems] 
in my hands–and very stately it is, like a slab of ivory engraved with steel; 
but I didn’t read it, because you are giving it me. Oh the Cafe Royal! 
When Jack said that – not to me, but to the company,
you could have seen my hand tremble; 
and then we all went on talking and the candles were lit, 
and I chose mine, a green one, and it was the first to die, 
which means that out of the 8 or 9 people there, 
I shall be the first to wear a winding sheet. 
But you’ll be lunching at the Cafe Royal!