He has been obsessing me these last days.

He too--I am certain of it--dreads the Irrevocable, and regrets the rupture between us.

I dream of him continually--such restless, tantalising dreams.

And yet my mood is so contradictory.

If the marriage WERE broken off and he stood before me, free, and offered himself!-- Could I bring myself to face our future together with all its depoeticising influences, its almost certainty of friction?
No.
Something deep down inside me says--has always said--"It would be a mistake; this is not the real thing: we are not suited to each other; the attraction might even turn to repulsion." Imagine the agony of that! Life goes on here, all dribble, waste and fret--I cannot concentrate, I cannot paint--the Wave-fairies won't play--Your Bush gobies appeal more to my present humour.