That’s him over there, isn’t it? With the cane? You never told me he walks with a cane. Is he lame from the war? Lame? asked Moore, who frankly had never noticed. I don’t know. No, not lame. I have no idea why he carries that thing. It’s so annoying, remarked Dorothy with a sideways look. You never tell me the interesting things about people. That’s because I so dread the interesting things about people, said Moore, returning her look. As I am dreading this weekend. The man with the cane was Wittgenstein, and Moore and Dorothy were meeting him at Cambridge Station to take the train to Petersfield, on the South Downs, where Russell and his wife, Dora, lived with their two children at Beacon Hill, the progressive children’s school they had started four years before. It would be a reunion of sorts, but it wasn’t a social visit. The next day, at Russell’s, Wittgenstein was to stand for his doctorate, with Moore and Russell as his examiners.
