It is no good.

He is to be buried to-morrow, and next day I am going 'en retraite' for a month, as I must have time to get over this--to accustom myself to not seeing him every morning when I come down to breakfast.

You remember my French friend, Gabrielle d'Estree?
Well; she is a nun now, a sub-something or other in a convent near here where they take in people for a payment.

Somehow she heard my father was dead, and came to see me, and offered to put me up at the convent, which has a beautiful large garden, for I have been there.

So I said yes, for I shan't feel lonely with her, and it will be a rest for a month.