July 18
Have had toothache for a week. Too much of a coward to have it out. Started for P⸺ early in the morning to report Mr. Duke, K.C. After a week’s pain, felt a little dicky. All the way in the train kept hardening myself to the task in front of me by recollecting the example of Zola, who killed pain with work. So all day today I have endeavoured to act as if I had no pain—the worst of all pains—toothache. By the time I got home I was rather done up, but the pain was actually less. This gave me a furious joy, and, after days of morose silence, tonight at supper I made them all laugh by bursting out violently with, “I don’t know whether you know it but I’ve had a horrible day today.” I explained at length and received the healing ointment of much sympathy. Went to bed happy with tooth still aching. I fear it was scarcely playing the strict Zolaesque game to divulge the story of my sufferings. … No, I am not a martyr or a saint. Just an ordinary devil who’s having a rough time.