Have been with old friend ----, first time in five years, with exception of one brief day. He has changed considerably. Now is all for experience and practicality--theories merely a sideline, and, of course, for both of us to live it must be so. =New York, February 28, 1913.= I leave to-morrow for ----, my last trip. On the eve of a new month I feel indifferent. Hopelessness took possession of me several days ago, and I pretty well decided to end it all as planned. However, as my money is gone I must work if I am to live even until May 10th, and, of course, if I work again for ever so short a time in view, I cannot say how long I may keep it up, so I say nothing. I make no grand resolutions for beginning [of month], but the usual sexual one, having fallen again. Even if I must die because of my weakness physically I would like a * * * * =--, Sunday, March 23, 1913.= I had not intended writing in my diary to-day, but at the end of the month. This evening, alone in the house, everything quiet, the fire gently singing, even the cat asleep. I was reading in the kitchen Dickens’ “Great Expectations.” I just heard a sound and find my brother Percy asleep on the sofa in the next room. A feeling of peace came over me as I laid down my book that I was prompted to write in my diary, for moments of peace have been so infrequent of late that it was a remarkable contrast to my wild vagaries and desperately suppressed emotions. For I am working again. I arrived here night of Saturday, March 1st, and on Tuesday the 4th, commenced work with ---- at the fine salary of $55 a month, with prospects. They offered $50; I suggested it ---- and we compromised on $55. Of course, there have been openings in my line at higher salaries, but I took the first thing and will not change, as it seems good as business goes, unless the prospects do not materialize. Though I hated to acknowledge it to myself, I needed to get back to work more than anything else to save me. I had my opportunity, or rather I saved up $400 by sacrifices in Havana, and then sat down and did nothing until half was gone, afterwards wasting the rest in a wild goose chase after my destiny. However, I entered into my work with a spirit of hopeful resignation. Being inevitable, and for the first time in my work, acknowledging it, I will not say I attend to it more conscientiously, but I grip myself when a wave of the old dissatisfaction passes over me and work, work. At night I sleep, but at intervals during day and evening, and in the morning I find it a great effort not to fly off the handle in protest of it all, but keep on just the same. I have had several passionate weak outbursts during the month, several times I have made a fool of myself by venting my temper on those around me, but generally I hold myself in better and am more conscious of having command of myself.