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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
214
But
once
in
the
country
and,
as
I
thought,
nearing
my
love
at
every
step
and
at
every
bend
in
the
road,
even
anticipating
her
arms
around
me
with
real
pleasure
(for
she
promised
to
meet
me
half
way),
I
on
a
sudden
grew
eager
for
her
again
and
was
assured
of
a
happy
week-end
with
her.
Then
the
road
grew
puzzling
and
I
became
confused,
uncertain
of
the
way.
I
began
to
murmur
she
should
have
given
me
instructions.
Every
now
and
then
I
had
to
stop
and
rest
as
my
heart
was
beating
so
furiously.
Espying
a
farm
on
the
left
I
made
sure
I
had
arrived
at
my
destination
and
walked
across
a
field
to
it
and
entered
the
yard
where
I
heard
some
one
milking
a
cow
in
a
shed.
I
shouted
over
the
five-barred
gate
into
empty
space,
"Is
this
C----
H----
Farm?"
A
labourer
came
out
of
the
shed
and
redirected
me.
It
was
now
ten
to
five.
I
was
tired
and
out
of
sorts,
and
carried
a
troublesome
little
handbag.
I
swore
and
cursed
and
found
fault
with
E----
and
the
Universe.
I
trudged
on,
asking
people,
as
I
went,
the
way,
finally
emerging
from
the
cover
of
a
beautiful
wood
thro'
a
wicket
gate
almost
at
the
entrance
to
the
Farm
I
sought.
At
the
front
door
we
embraced
affectionately
and
we
entered
at
once,
I
putting
a
quite
good
face
upon
my
afternoon's
exertions--when
I
consider
my
unbridled
fury
of
a
short
time
before.
E----,
as
brown
as
a
berry,
conducted
me
to
my
bedroom
and
I
nearly
forgot
to
take
this
obvious
opportunity
of
kissing
her
again.
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