tain Herrick_.

That is the truth.

* * * * *

_Tuesday._

If I love him so much, why am I possessed by a horrible fear that I will
refuse to be his wife? Good God, what a woman I am! I love Captain
Herrick so much that I would gladly die for him--I have risked my life
for him already--and yet--

I have promised Christopher his answer when we meet at Roberta's party
on Friday night, but I am not sure what I will say to him. Three days! I
told Roberta I would not go to her party unless she invited Christopher,
so she did.

_Wednesday._

I feel much encouraged about my health. For nearly a week my sleep has
been free from dreams and They have not come near me. I begin to think
Dr. Owen is right. I have been suffering from nervous disturbances
caused by shell shock, and I am on the road to recovery. I need rest and
recreation, especially recreation--anything to divert my mind from
fears and somber thoughts. I say this to Seraphine when she warns me
that I must not go to Roberta's party. She says I will go at my great
peril, but I refuse to entertain these fears. I crave the gaiety and
_insouciance_ of Roberta's care-free Bohemians. Besides, I shall see
Christopher. I will tell him that I love him with all my soul and will
marry him--the sooner the better--any time. Within a month I may be Mrs.
Christopher Herrick. How wonderful!

_Thursday._

While I was looking back through my diary I came upon a reflection of
Julian's--he said that men take no real interest in other men, _as men_,
although they are interested in all women. The fact that men are sex
animals makes no impression upon other men, whereas the fact that women
are sex animals makes an enormous impression. A man would hear of the
tragic death of a thousand unknown men with comparative indifference, he
declared, but would be distressed to hear of the death of a hundred
unknown women. I wonder if that is true. I know that women are intensely
conscious that all other women are sex animals. Is that due to jealousy?

I came upon another thought of Julian's--about temptation. He pictured a
drunkard who has sworn off drinking. This man announces his virtuous
intentions from the housetops--he will never drink again, he will avoid
temptation, he will not attend a certain convivial gathering, say
tonight at nine o'clock. He repeats this to himself and to others--he
will _not_ be present at this gathering. But all the time, de