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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
77
October
27.
Quarrelled
with
D----!
The
atmosphere
is
changed
at
the
flat--my
character
is
ruined.
D----
has
told
them
I'm
a
loose
fellow.
I've
always
contrived
to
give
him
that
impression--I
liked
to
be
cutting
my
throat--and
now
it's
cut!
November
1.
D----
came
and
carried
me
off
to
the
flat,
where
they
asked
why
I
hadn't
been
over--which,
of
course,
pleased
me
immensely.
November
6.
Doctor
M----
is
very
gloomy
about
my
health
and
talks
of
S.
Africa,
Labrador,
and
so
on.
I'm
not
responding
to
his
treatment
as
I
should.
November
11.
Met
her
this
evening
in
Kensington
Road.
"I
timed
this
well,"
said
she,
"I
thought
I
should
meet
you."
Good
Heavens,
I
am
getting
embroiled.
Returned
to
the
flat
with
her
and
after
supper
called
her
"The
Lady
of
Shalott."
"I
don't
think
you
know
what
you're
talking
about"--this
stiffly.
"Perhaps
not,"
I
answered.
"I
leave
it
to
you."
"Oh!
but
it
rests
with
you,"
she
said.
Am
I
in
love?
God
knows--but
I
don't
suppose
God
cares.
November
15.
On
M----'s
advice
went
to
see
a
stomach
specialist--Dr.
Hawkins.
As
I
got
there
a
little
too
early
walked
up
the
street--Portland
Place--on
the
opposite
side
(from
shyness)
past
an
interminable
and
nauseating
series
of
night
bells
and
brass
plates,
then
down
again
on
the
right
side
till
I
got
to
No.
66
which
made
me
flutter--for
ten
doors
ahead
I
mused
is
the
house
I
must
call
at.
It
made
me
shiver
a
little.
The
specialist
took
copious
notes
of
my
evidence
and
after
examining
me
retired
to
consult
with
M----.
What
a
parade
of
ceremony!
On
coming
back,
the
jury
returned
a
verdict
of
"Not
proven."
I
was
told
I
ought
to
go
out
and
live
on
the
prairies--and
in
two
years
I
should
be
a
giant!
But
where
are
the
prairies?
What
'bus?
If
I
get
worse,
I
must
take
several
months'
leave.
I
think
it
will
come
to
this.
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