14 June

14 June 1920

2 Portland Villas, Hampstead - London

The cafe was all but deserted. Over in the corner there sat a poor little creature with 2 loops of velvet in her hat that gave her the look of a rabbit. She was writing a letter. First she wrote a little, & then she looked up & the two bows of ribbon seemed to pout, to listen. Then she hunched down again & scribbled another sheet. Again she looked up. The grey waiter had his eye on her ...
Over in the corner there sat a stout man with a swollen shabby black leather bag at his feet. He was yawning over a timetable but occasionally he stopped & gave the black bag a little dig, a kick, as if to warn it that it was no good falling too fast asleep - they'd have to be off soon.

I kissed her. Her cheek felt cold white, and somehow moist. It was like kissing a church candle. I looked into her eyes, they were pale, flickering with dim far off lights. She smelled faintly of incense. Her skirt was rubbed and bulged at the knees. But how could you say that about the Blessed Virgin! said she. It must have hurt Our Lady so terribly. And I saw the B.V. throwing away her copy of Je ne Parle pas francais & saying "Really this K.M. is all that her friends say [of] her to me."  [KM Notebooks, undated]