My mother dead and cold. Fed the old hankering. Dashed to nearest kitchen, and back, read. My dearest need not, does not, know. This desire to observe and take notes overwhelms even the servants.
Dust flies about and mental dust.
Looks like rain. I spent my money. Around that time I had to change my name. Next moment I was highway hitch-hiking, hey, that's the fever talking, giving me over. I told everyone everything.