(On Sept. 29th, on the Doctor's advice I went away by the sea alone, my nerves being all unstrung. For an account of the miseries of this journey, see Dec. 12th infra).
October 3.
A wire to say Susan arrived 2.15 p.m. All well.
October 5.
Home again with my darling. She is the most wonderful darling woman. Our love is for always. The Baby is a monster.
October 23.
The fact that I can't write, finally bottles me up.[4] Damn! Damn! Damn! If only I can get my Essay on Journal Writers done. E—— goes on well. I have a thousand things to say.
October 27.
Still awaiting a reprieve. I hate alarming the Doctor—he's such a cheerful man so I conceal my symptoms, quite a collection by now.
The prospect of breaking the news to her makes me miserable. I hide away as much as possible lest she should see. I must speak when she is well again.