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[Page 40]

I have nothing to read despite the fact that I have done a house to house canvas for books. Hence my soul yearns hungrily for pithy descriptions of Hell, its inmates & its tortures such as are ably described in The Aeneid Book VI. I am even deined that dog-in-the-manger consolation of going to bed for Bernard has to be fed again at 8 oclock – I am always feeding that beast, it is nothing less than adding insult to injury after such a meal as I have had.
There is not a soul here that I care much to converse with, that is, with common interests; anyway I am too lazy to hunt him up.
In fact I have descended to a mental and physical apathy from which I have only strength to rail feebly at fate. I hope &

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