12 January 1920 – 18 January 1920

Posted the story and a telegram. Very tired. The sea howled and boomed and roared away. When will this cup pass from me? Oh, misery! I can- not sleep. I lie retracing my steps — going over all the old life before. . . .

Bad day. A curious smoky effect over the coast. I crawled and crept about the garden in the afternoon. I feel terribly weak and all the time on the verge of breaking down. Tried to work ; could not work. At six o'clock went back to bed. Had a dreadful nightmare.

Foster came: says my lung is remarkably better, but must rest absolutely for two months and not attempt to walk at all. I have got a " bigger chance." Bell rang at night. My eye pains me. Can- not get a move on. Dreamed about B. She gave me her baby to mind.

Sat in my room watching the day change to evening. The fire like a golden stag. Thinking of the fast always ; dreaming it over. The cotton plant has turned yellow. To-night the sea is down. P.O. strike. No, no letters.

Wrote and sent reviews. Stayed in bed, worked. Had a bath. The day was very lovely. I had to work hard. In the evening began my new story " A Strange Mistake." l P.O. strike for letters and tele- grams. At night I could not sleep. My life in London seems immeasurably far and all like a dream. L.M. talked of herself as a child.

No letters : strike still on. A fine day. But what is that to me? I am an invalid. I spend my life in bed. Read Shakespeare in the morning. I feel I can- not bear this silence to-day. I am haunted by thoughts.