18 May

18 May 1920

2 Portland Villas, Hampstead - London

[. . .] She smelt his fresh young fingers pinning the jacket under her chin. Yes there is a wind, said she, sinking back into the chair. And silence fell.
Georges took out the pins in his expert way - her tumbled back but he didn't hold it as he usually did, as tho to feel how fine & soft & heavy it was. He didn't say it was in a lovely condition - he let it fall, and taking a brush out of a drawer he coughed faintly & said: Yes it's a pretty one. I should say it was. She had no reply to make. The brush fell on her hair - but oh how mournful - how mournful. It fell quick & light, it fell like leaves, & then it fell more heavy, tugging tugging like the tugging at her heart. That's enough, said she shaking herself free.
Did I do it too much, said Georges & he crouched over the tings. I'm sorry. There came the smell of burnt paper - the smell she loved - & he swung swung swung the hot tongs round in his hand. ‘I shouldn't be surprised if it rained' and he was just taking up the first piece of her hair when she stopped him.
She looked at him. She saw herself looking at him in the white kimono like a nun looks. ‘Is there something the matter. Has something happened.' But Georges gave a queer half shrug & grimace. Oh no Madame. Just a little occurrence - & he took up her piece of hair again. Just the front - only the front. Just a wave or two here & there. Oh dear she said.
Oh, she wasn't deceived. That was it. Something had happened! [. . .]  [KM Notebooks, section dated 1 May 1920.]