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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
147
"What's
become
of
all
the
gold?"
"What's
become
of
Waring?"
"What
shall
I
sing
when
all
is
sung?"
To
which
several
categorical
interrogations
she
ventured
no
reply,
but
presently
in
the
usual
voice,--
"I
have
placed
an
Agrionine
in
this
drawer
for
security
and,
now
I
want
it,
cannot
find
it."
"Life
is
like
that,"
I
said.
"I
never
can
find
my
Agrionines!"
August
1.
All
Europe
is
mobilising.
August
2.
Will
England
join
in?
August
12.
We
all
await
the
result
of
a
battle
between
two
millions
of
men.
The
tension
makes
me
feel
physically
sick.
August
21--August
24.
In
bed
with
a
fever.
I
never
visit
the
flat
now,
but
her
mother
kindly
came
over
to
see
me.
September
25.
[Living
now
in
rooms
alone.]
I
have--since
my
return
from
Cornwall--placed
all
my
journals
in
a
specially
made
cabinet.
R----
came
to
dinner
and
after
a
glass
or
so
of
Beaune
and
a
cigarette,
I
open
my
"coffin"[2]
(it
is
a
long
box
with
a
brass
handle
at
each
end),
and
with
some
show
of
deliberation
select
a
volume
to
read
to
him,
drawing
it
from
its
division
with
lavish
punctiliousness,
and
inquiring
with
an
oily
voice,
"A
little
of
1912?"
as
if
we
were
trying
wines.
R----
grins
at
the
little
farce
and
so
encourages
me.
September
26.
Doctor's
Consulting
Rooms--my
life
has
been
spent
in
them!
Medical
specialists--Harley
Street
men--I
have
seen
four
and
all
to
no
purpose.
M----
wrote
me
the
other
day,--
"Come
along
and
see
me
on
Tuesday;
some
day
I
dare
say
we
shall
find
something
we
can
patch."
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