* * * * *
The work here is most interesting. I feel glad that I am one of the
spiders weaving the web for Britain's destruction.
The impasse with Zoe still continues, and my peace of mind has been
still further disturbed by the actual arrival of Rosa. She rang me up
within twelve hours of her arrival, and, of course, I was obliged to
call. That was the day before yesterday. Rosa is at the No. 3 Hospital
here, and was horribly effusive. Some people would, I suppose, call her
good-looking, but to me, with my mind's-eye in perpetual contemplation
of my darling Zoe, Rosa looked like a turnip. Her first movement after
the preliminary greetings was to offer me a cigarette! I then noticed
that her fingers were stained with nicotine, unpleasant in a man,
disgusting in a woman.
Her nose was shiny and greasy--horrible. After a little talk she
volunteered the statement that yesterday was her afternoon off, and she
was simply longing to have tea in the gardens.
I endeavoured to make some feeble excuse on the grounds of the weather
being unsuitable, but I am no good at these social lies, and I was
eventually obliged to promise to take her there. I was the more annoyed
in that her main object was obviously to be seen walking with a U-boat
officer.
Accordingly, yesterday, I found myself walking about with her at my
side. My feelings can better be imagined than described when I suddenly
saw Zoe, accompanied by Babette, in the distance.
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