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Acolyte, v. 2, issue 3, whole no. 7, Summer 1944
Page 22
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of the same building. She stared at me queerly and kept on walking. I seized her arm and turned her around. I caused a scene, but I wasn't going to be put off any longer. It was either one thing or the other. I asked her, in a polite manner, to forgive me. She quibbled and side-stepped. She gave me no direct answer. Then I accused her of visiting Bullit. She flared back so hotly I knew I had struck the truth. She said she could go to a doctor any time she pleased, and that as far as she was concerned our engagement was off. I told her that was jake with me. She snatched off the ring and slammed it on the pavement. The diamond broke from its setting and rolled, like a mocking eye of Satan, across the sidewalk. I watched it splash in the gutter, and, turning my back on Clara and the curious long-necked mob, staggered into the hospital, so enraged I could scarcely see. I didn't visit Bullit. went to the Idle-Hour bar and drank myself into a stupor. Larson brought me home and dumped me in bed. I slept well--the first time since that damned operation. I'm beginning to think it was all a huge mistake. I shall see Bullit tomorrow.... May 10---More wild dreams last night--they're driving me wild. Bullit says I'm just upset because Clara and I had a little falling out. The gossip seems to have floated around very swiftly. Bullit was quite smug and pleased with himself as he dressed my wound and tried to soothe my nerves. I wonder just how well Clara and Alfred Bullit know one another.... Not that it matters any more. Curse her scheming little soul! I love her and hate her at the same time. Is that possible? I don't know. We're through--that is final. Bullit says the wound isn't healing as it should, but predicts that another week will see me in good health and spirits. He reminded me again about exercise and fresh air. Rings under my eyes aren't encouraging. Something Bullit said reminded me of my story, and I told him I had been unable to find any reliable reference books on Mesmerism and telepathy, and asked him where I might obtain some. The question rather startled him. He said he possessed a few, and offered to let me use them. I accepted gladly. Perhaps I can settle down and write a few pages tonight. During the course of our conversation I told Bullit about my dreams. He laughed and said I worried too much, adding that they were probably due to some obscure psychological attackment I'd had for the missing protuberance. May 12---Mother's Day. Went to church wearing my usual white carnation.... I can't bear this town life any longer. I'm going up to my cabin at Lake Waha, where I may get some rest and peace of mind. Now I'm dreaming about Clara day and night. Can't write a thing. Seem to have lost all powers of concentration. Mind needs a rest. Too many emotional upheavals lately. Must get away for a while. Making arrangements and doing necessary packing today. May 16---Established in my cabin at last. Told the postmaster at the resort to hold all mail and communications for a week. I need complete isolation. Must battle this out alone. Went for a long walk today and visited many old picnic spots and swimming holes. More poignant memories of Clara, who used to share with me these scenic delights. Very few tourists about, owing to cold weather. Early yet for the main flock. Tried a new story, but gave it up. Restless; cursed with insomnia and bad dreams. Last night (first evening here) I had more disturbing visions and woke several times in a cold sweat. Wound is healing slowly. It throbs and burns whenever I move. However, I think another week here will see me entirely well. Mountains are beautiful this time of year. More Lilies of the Valley than I ever saw before so early in -- 22 --
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of the same building. She stared at me queerly and kept on walking. I seized her arm and turned her around. I caused a scene, but I wasn't going to be put off any longer. It was either one thing or the other. I asked her, in a polite manner, to forgive me. She quibbled and side-stepped. She gave me no direct answer. Then I accused her of visiting Bullit. She flared back so hotly I knew I had struck the truth. She said she could go to a doctor any time she pleased, and that as far as she was concerned our engagement was off. I told her that was jake with me. She snatched off the ring and slammed it on the pavement. The diamond broke from its setting and rolled, like a mocking eye of Satan, across the sidewalk. I watched it splash in the gutter, and, turning my back on Clara and the curious long-necked mob, staggered into the hospital, so enraged I could scarcely see. I didn't visit Bullit. went to the Idle-Hour bar and drank myself into a stupor. Larson brought me home and dumped me in bed. I slept well--the first time since that damned operation. I'm beginning to think it was all a huge mistake. I shall see Bullit tomorrow.... May 10---More wild dreams last night--they're driving me wild. Bullit says I'm just upset because Clara and I had a little falling out. The gossip seems to have floated around very swiftly. Bullit was quite smug and pleased with himself as he dressed my wound and tried to soothe my nerves. I wonder just how well Clara and Alfred Bullit know one another.... Not that it matters any more. Curse her scheming little soul! I love her and hate her at the same time. Is that possible? I don't know. We're through--that is final. Bullit says the wound isn't healing as it should, but predicts that another week will see me in good health and spirits. He reminded me again about exercise and fresh air. Rings under my eyes aren't encouraging. Something Bullit said reminded me of my story, and I told him I had been unable to find any reliable reference books on Mesmerism and telepathy, and asked him where I might obtain some. The question rather startled him. He said he possessed a few, and offered to let me use them. I accepted gladly. Perhaps I can settle down and write a few pages tonight. During the course of our conversation I told Bullit about my dreams. He laughed and said I worried too much, adding that they were probably due to some obscure psychological attackment I'd had for the missing protuberance. May 12---Mother's Day. Went to church wearing my usual white carnation.... I can't bear this town life any longer. I'm going up to my cabin at Lake Waha, where I may get some rest and peace of mind. Now I'm dreaming about Clara day and night. Can't write a thing. Seem to have lost all powers of concentration. Mind needs a rest. Too many emotional upheavals lately. Must get away for a while. Making arrangements and doing necessary packing today. May 16---Established in my cabin at last. Told the postmaster at the resort to hold all mail and communications for a week. I need complete isolation. Must battle this out alone. Went for a long walk today and visited many old picnic spots and swimming holes. More poignant memories of Clara, who used to share with me these scenic delights. Very few tourists about, owing to cold weather. Early yet for the main flock. Tried a new story, but gave it up. Restless; cursed with insomnia and bad dreams. Last night (first evening here) I had more disturbing visions and woke several times in a cold sweat. Wound is healing slowly. It throbs and burns whenever I move. However, I think another week here will see me entirely well. Mountains are beautiful this time of year. More Lilies of the Valley than I ever saw before so early in -- 22 --
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