8 December 1913 – 14 December 1913

In the evening found it quite impossible to stay in the house any longer: some vague fear drove me out. I was alarmed to be alone or to be still. It is my cough, I think. Had two glasses of port at the Kensington Hotel, conversed with the barmaid, and then came home.

"Don't be an old fossil," she said to me to-night, irrelevantly. "A propos of what?" I inquired. "Mother, here's W---- proposing to E----! Do come," cried ----, with intent to confuse. I laughed heartlessly. Dear, dear, where will it all end? It's a sad business when you fall in love with a girl you don't like.