August 30 Sunday – In Guildford, England Sam finished his Aug. 29 letter to Livy.

Sunday, mid-afternoon, 30th. Not a line yet, not a single line. It seems as if I cannot bear it.

It is a bleak day, cold & silent — Sundaylike & mournful. I am by myself, for the long walk has tired Smythe & he went to his room after luncheon.

Poor Susy, it is now eleven days. …

What a year of disaster it has been. Such a little time ago we had three daughters, now we have lost two. Susy goes out of our life to something better; Clara goes out of it to a doubtful change — & one which I would have prevented if I could have done it [LLMT 327].