Wednesday 21 November

I finally gain word from Daisy, via the worldwidewotsit. Unless the Chief Clerk is mistaken (he never is) the twitching strings convey an attempt to laugh away Saturday: ‘Good Lord! What a funny night!’ she conveys. Such antiquated blasphemes and whittling down of noble romance to joviality are surely signs of a particularly feminine hysteria. I just hope she’s not on the morphine again.

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