In the evening went over to see her. She was wearing a black silk gown and looked handsome.... She is always the same sombre, fascinating, lissom, soft-voiced She! She herself never changes.... What am I to do? I cannot give her up and yet I do not altogether wish to take her to my heart. It distresses me to know how to proceed. I am a wily fish.
August 10.
Sat in the gardens with her. We sat facing the sun for a while until she was afraid of developing freckles and turned around, deliberately turning her back on good King Sol.... I said it was disrespectful.
"Oh! he doesn't mind," she said. "He's a dear. He kissed me and said, 'Turn round my dear if you like.'"
Isn't she tantalising?
I wanted to say sarcastically, "I wonder you let him kiss you," but there was a danger of the remark reviving the dead.
August 14.
I tried my best, I've sought every loophole of escape, but I am quite unable to avoid the melancholy fact that her thumbs are—lamentable. I am genuinely upset about it for I like her. No one more than I would be more delighted if they were otherwise.... Poor dear! how I love her! That's why I'm so concerned about her thumbs.
August 21.
A wire from A—— came at 11.50 saying "Darling Mother passed peacefully away yesterday afternoon." ... Yesterday afternoon I was writing Zoology and all last night I slept soundly.... It was quite sudden. Caught the first train home.