September 30 + 

Last night, E⁠⸺ sitting on the bed by me, burst into tears. It was my fault. “I can stand a good deal but there must come a breaking point.” Poor, poor girl, my heart aches for you. + 

I wept too, and it relieved us to cry. We blew our noses. “People who cry in novels,” E⁠⸺ observed with detachment, “never blow their noses. They just weep.”⁠ ⁠… But the thunder clouds soon come up again. + 