The Journal of a Disappointed Man

Next morning I felt thoroughly cornered: I was not really fit enough to travel; my hand and leg were daily growing more and more paralysed and J---- wired to say she could not put me up as they were going away for the week end. So I wired back engaging rooms, as with the nurse in the house and E---- as she was, I simply could not stay at home.... On the way to the Station I was still in two minds whether or not to pull the taxi up at the Nursing Home and go inside, but harassing debate as it was, our rapidly diminishing bank balance finally drove me on. ---- came up to London with me and sought out a comfortable corner seat, but by the time the train left, a mother and a crying child had got in and everywhere else was full. A girl opposite who saw ---- hand me a brandy flask and knew I was ill, looked at me compassionately. At Reading, another woman with a baby got in and both babies cried in chorus, jangling my nerves to bits!--until I got out into the corridor, by a miracle not falling down, with one leg very feeble and treacherous. All seats were taken, excepting a first-class compartment where I looked in enviously at a lucky youth stretched out asleep full length along the empty seat. All the people and the noise of the train began to make me fret, so I sought out the repose of a lavatory where I remained eating sandwiches and an apple for the best part of an hour. It was good to be alone.