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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
215
"How
are
you?"
I
asked.
"All
right,"
she
said,
fencing.
"But
really?"
"All
right."
(A
little
nettled):
"My
dear,
that
isn't
going
to
satisfy
me.
You
will
have
to
tell
me
exactly
how
you
are."
After
tea,
I
recovered
myself
and
we
went
for
a
walk
together.
The
beauty
of
the
country
warmed
me
up,
and
in
the
wood
we
kissed--I
for
my
part
happy
and
quite
content
with
the
present
state
of
our
relations,
i.e.,
affectionate
but
not
perfervid.
May
29.
Got
up
early
and
walked
around
the
Farm
before
breakfast.
Everything
promises
to
be
delightful--young
calves,
broods
of
ducklings,
and
turkeys,
fowls,
cats
and
dogs.
In
the
yard
are
two
large
Cathedral
barns,
with
enormous
pent
roofs
sloping
down
to
within
about
two
feet
of
the
ground
and
entered
by
way
of
great
double
doors
that
open
with
the
slowness
and
solemnity
of
a
Castle's
portal
studded
with
iron
knobs.
It
thrilled
me
to
the
marrow
on
first
putting
my
head
outside
to
be
greeted
with
the
grunt
of
an
invisible
pig
that
I
found
scraping
his
back
on
the
other
side
of
the
garden
wall.
In
the
afternoon,
E----
and
I
sat
together
in
the
Beech
Wood:
E----
on
a
deck
chair
and
I
on
a
rug
on
the
ground.
In
spite
of
our
beautiful
surroundings
we
did
not
progress
very
well,
but
I
attributed
her
slight
aloofness
to
the
state
of
her
nerves.
She
is
still
far
from
recovered.
These
wonderful
Beech
Woods
are
quite
new
to
me.
The
forest
beech
is
a
very
different
plant
from
the
solitary
tree.
In
the
struggle
to
reach
the
light
the
Forest
Beech
grows
lean
and
tall
and
gives
an
extraordinary
suggestion
of
wiry
powerful
strength.
On
the
margins
of
the
wood,
Bluebells
were
mobilised
in
serried
ranks.
Great
Tits
whistled--in
the
language
of
our
allies--"Bijou,
Bijou"
and
I
agreed
with
every
one
of
them.
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