19 January 1920 – 25 January 1920

No letters or papers. V. came; and Mrs. V. and Miss S. in white. " The trouble Fve had with you, Mrs. Murry, and the expense it's put me to — more fuss than if you'd died there." The women against the flowers were so lovely — even Miss S. I had a dreadful crying fit about " noise and cleanli- ness." It was horrible.

Washed my hair. L.M. out all day. Here alone — a perfect day. I wandered in the garden. . . . There was a ship, white and solid on the water. Over- coat disappeared. The fire in my room and the double light. All was exquisitely beautiful. " Good-bye." It now believes we are going and it is safe.

A day like a dream. V.'s hair, stick, jacket, teeth, tie — all to be remembered. " To use a volgarism, I'm fed up." The journey — the flowers — these women here. Jinnie's black satin neckcloth and pearl pin. This exquisitive cleanliness turns me into a cat.

Saw the doctor: a fool. The Casetta left to itself: the little winds blowing, the shutters shut, the cotton plant turning yellow. Spent a tiring morn- ing. My heart hurts me. The meals downstairs are a fearful strain. But the people naive.

Saw two of the doctors — an ass, and an ass. Spent the day at my window. It was very lovely and fair. But I was trying to work all day and could not get down to it. In the night had appalling night- mare.

Cousin C. brought the tiny dog to see me — a ravishing animal. The same despairing desire to work, and could not work. I suppose I started review- ing T. nine or ten times. Felt very tired as a result of this.

The meals here are a horror. I seem to be sitting hours and hours there, and the people are ugly. Nevertheless, thank God I am here, in sound of the train, in reach of the post.