Saturday
Spent the night in the chair,
before a good fire. Wakened soon after
midnight by the distant boom of guns, but did not bother to get up – too
tired. Soon after had a very curious
dream. I was in the actual sitting-room,
in the armchair, and Mary Hulbert [an old girlfriend of Rudsdale's] was in the room with me. She seemed to be much older than when I last
saw her, and her hair was going grey. I
don't know what we talked about, but there was a frightening atmosphere, and
curious noises somewhere in the cottage.
Then the door opened and an American soldier came in, a dark, sallow
man, with a handsome but very evil face.
I shouted out loud, and woke up.
Bitterly cold day. No fires at the office when I got there, so
went home for half an hour. Father
suffering from the cold.
Back to Higham at 7. Terribly cold. Writing all evening, then slept before the
fire until about 3. Looked outside and
found the clouds had gone, and stars twinkled through a light haze. A ‘plane flew over very low. Went to bed.
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