11 November 1912 – 17 November 1912

Met her this evening in Kensington Road. "I timed this well," said she, "I thought I should meet you." Good Heavens, I am getting embroiled. Returned to the flat with her and after supper called her "The Lady of Shalott." "I don't think you know what you're talking about"--this stiffly. "Perhaps not," I answered. "I leave it to you." "Oh! but it rests with you," she said. Am I in love? God knows--but I don't suppose God cares.

On M----'s advice went to see a stomach specialist--Dr. Hawkins. As I got there a little too early walked up the street--Portland Place--on the opposite side (from shyness) past an interminable and nauseating series of night bells and brass plates, then down again on the right side till I got to No. 66 which made me flutter--for ten doors ahead I mused is the house I must call at. It made me shiver a little. The specialist took copious notes of my evidence and after examining me retired to consult with M----. What a parade of ceremony! On coming back, the jury returned a verdict of "Not proven." I was told I ought to go out and live on the prairies--and in two years I should be a giant! But where are the prairies? What 'bus? If I get worse, I must take several months' leave. I think it will come to this.

Arthur came down for the week end. He likes the Lady of Shalott. She is "not handsome, but arresting, striking" and "capable of tragedy." That I believe she has achieved already.... If she were a bit more gloomy and a bit more beautiful, she'd be irresistible.