August 26 Wednesday – In Guildford, England Sam began a letter to Livy that he finished Aug. 28.
I know what misery is at last, my darling. I know what I shall suffer when you die. I see, now, that I have never known sorrow before, but only some poor modification of it. In Henry’s case I would not allow myself to think of my loss, lest the burden be too heavy to bear; but in poor Susy’s case I have no disposition or desire to put it out of my mind — I seem to want to think of it all the time. For the present the zest of life is gone from me, which is natural. I have hated life before — from the time I was 18 — but I was not indifferent to it. Mind, I am not always dully indifferent now, in these heavy days. No, my mood changes; changes to fury, & rage until I get a sort of relief. …
No letters have come — not a line since Jean’s of the 8th & 9th & Sue’s of the 11th. They must have written after that & before you sailed [on Aug. 15]; & surely they would write me after you sailed. I was sure I should get letters yesterday or to-day — surely I shall not be disappointed tomorrow.
After dinner — 8.45. Mr. Smythe has gone up to lie down & try to get rid of a headache, & I am alone with my memories of the Light that Failed. I enclose a paragraph which Mr. Smythe told you he would send you. …
I find I cannot write. It is so soon after dinner that my words clog & will not flow.
Our daily life goes on by unchanging routine. Mr. Smythe takes his bath at 8; I take mine at 8.30 & shave; breakfast (with fish or meat) at 9; the newspaper for a quarter of an hour; then a walk of miles through the town & the beautiful outskirts, from two to three hours, & get back at lunch-time or a shade later; after lunch, billiards & reading — my reading begin the letters, often — the letters that came from Sue & Jean & Charley, & which now mean so much! after dinner, billiards till 1 a.m., or a trifle earlier if Smythe finds he is no longer able to stand up. I get so tired that in bed if I drive poor Susy out of my mind I go to sleep at once. I do not wake until I am called. O, I love you, dearheart [LLMT 324-5].