1st Friday. Did some Latin, dashed to Mass and back, gobbled breakfast and ran to school, and in spite of all didn’t get my work done. – When I came home I got one of those curious fits where a thousand things are troubling me, and I imagine that I can never get ¼ of them finished. It is a sort of imaginative despair. – Got a fat letter full of cigarette cards and good stamps from Julia. She is really very kind. I was thinking of how generous she is to bother about me who am so far away, and when or how I ever did anything disinterested like that for anyone. I am afraid never. Wrote to Fr. Pat thanking him for lovely snipe he sent me.
