She hesitated for a moment and then said as though she regretted having to speak the truth.—
"I write a journal."
I could not prevent myself from replying too eagerly—.
"Oh! I should like to see it!—er—I write one too!"—
She was silent. I felt nervous again—.
"Do you put down your impressions of people—and things?"
"I suppose so—."
"Why does one write a journal?—" I wanted to hear what she would answer.
"One writes journals if one is lonely."
"Yes, that is true. Then you are lonely?"