The Journal of a Disappointed Man

April 15. H----'s wedding. Five minutes before time, I am told I made a dramatic entry into the church clad in an audaciously light pair of Cashmere trousers, lemon-coloured gloves, with top hat and cane. The latter upset the respectability frightfully--it is not comme il faut. April 16. ... If I am to admit the facts they are that I eagerly anticipate love, look everywhere for it, long for it, am unhappy without it. She fascinates me--admitted. I could, if I would, surrender myself. Her affection makes me long to do it. I am sick of living by myself. I am frightened of myself. My life is miserable alone, and sometimes desperately miserable when I long for a little sympathy to be close at hand. I have often tried to persuade R---- to share a flat with me, because I don't really wish to marry. I struggle against the idea, I am egotist enough to wish to shirk the responsibilities. But then I am a ridiculously romantic creature with a wonderful ideal of a woman I shall never meet or if I do she won't want me--"that (wholly) impossible She." R---- in a flat with me would partly solve my difficulties. I don't love her enough for marriage. Mine must be a grand passion, a bouleversement--for I am capable of it. April 17. A Humble Confession The Hon. ----, son and heir of Lord ----, to-day invited me to lunch with him in ---- Square. He's a handsome youth of twenty-five, with fair hair and blue eyes.... and O! such an aristocrat. Good Lord.