The Journal of a Disappointed Man

To-day, she was silent and melancholy but wonderfully fascinating. One day I am desperate and the next cold and apathetic. Am I in love? God knows! She came to the door to say "Good night," and I deliberately strangled my desire to say something. March 9. In bed till 12.30 reading Bergson and the O.T. Over to the flat to supper. E---- was cold and silent. She spurned me. No wonder. I talked volubly and quite brilliantly with the definite purpose of showing up J----'s somnolence. I also pulled his leg. He hates me. No wonder. After supper, he went in to her studio and remained there alone with her while she worked. At 11 p.m. he was still there when I came away in a whirlwind of jealousy, regrets, and rage. G---- said he was going to stay on until he saw "the blighter off the premises." Neither of us would go in to turn him out. I love her deeply and once my heart jumped when I thought I heard her coming into the room. But it was only P----. Did not see her again--even to say "Good-night." March 10. Work in the evening in our bedroom--two poor miserable bachelors--H---- reading Equity Law, a rug around his legs before an empty grate, while I am sitting at the table in top-coat, with collar up, and writing my magnum opus, which is to bring me fame, fortune and--E----! H---- says that this morning I was putting on my shoes when he pointed out a large hole in the heel of my sock.