The rain has been pouring all day.
To-night it has stopped, and all the hill is steam and drizzle and black with the blackness that war has thrust upon the countryside.
My Sister has gone.
Two nights ago I went up to a dinner at Madeleine's and to stay the night. My Sister said, "Go and enjoy yourself!" And I did. It is very amusing, the change into rooms full of talk and light; I feel a glow of pleasure as I climb to the room Madeleine calls mine and find the reflection of the fire on the blue wall-paper.
The evening wasn't remarkable, but I came back full of descriptions to the bunk and Sister next day.
I was running on, inventing this and that, making her laugh, when suddenly I looked up, and she had tears in her eyes.
I wavered and came to a stop. She got up suddenly and moved about the room, and then with a muttered "Wash my hands," disappeared into the corridor.
I sat and thought: "Is it that she has her life settled, quietly continuous, and one breaks in...? Does the wind from outside hurt?"
I regretted it all the evening.