In mother's room across the hall I can hear furious Voices,
and I know that Leila is begging to have me sent to Switzerland.
Let her beg. Switzerland is not far from England, and in
England----
Here I pause to reflect a moment. How is this thing
possible? Can I love to members of the Other Sex? And if such is
the Case, how can I go on with my Life? Better far to end it
now, than to perchance marry one, and find the other still in my
heart. The terrable thought has come to me that I am fickel.
Fickel or polygamus--which?
Dear Dairy, I have not been a good girl. My New Year's
Resolutions have gone to airey nothing.
The way they went was this: I had settled down to a quiet
evening, spent with his beloved picture which I had clipped from
a newspaper. (Adrian's. I had not as yet met the other.) And, as
I sat in my chamber, I grew more and more desolate. I love Life,
although pessamistic at times. And it seemed hard that I should
be there, in exile, while my Sister, only 2O months older, was
jumping at her chance below.
At last I decided to try on one of Sis's frocks and see how
I looked in it.
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