No kiss.

A- terribly low – did a little French while I breakfasted, all in vain – could not stop her tears. What shall I do with her? We must get off. At this moment she is lying down – what a miserable thing it is.

Found her at luncheon fretting having taken more wine after I left her – always harping on about its being wrong for her to eat and drink – afraid she shall drink; in good truth I am afraid so too, but I do not own it. I have put her to bed – she will sleep, I hope. The fact is she has had three or four glasses and so much is too much. Poor thing, what waste of happiness – what will become of her? We must be off.

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