_Dec. 17th._ Had a long talk with Philip this evening. I must say I liked him—he was so modest about himself. He said that he wished he were a little more as Katherine thinks he is, and that he’s going to try to be. I said that’s all right so long as he made Katherine happy and didn’t take her right away from us all. He said that he would do anything to make mother like him, and did I think that she liked him better now? I said that I was sure that she did—but I’m not sure really. It’s impossible to know what mother thinks. Katherine came in whilst we were talking. Afterwards, I don’t know why, I felt afraid somehow. Katie’s so _sure_. I know I’d never be sure of anybody, least of all anyone in love with me. But then I know so much more about men than Katie does. And I’m sure Philip knows lots more about women than Katie thinks. Katie and mother are _so_ alike in some ways. They’re both as obstinate as anything. Such a lovely afternoon out with the Swintons—Snow in the Green Park, sparkling all over and the air like after you’ve eaten peppermints. Lady Perrot asked me to go with them to New Year’s supper at the Savoy. Hope I’ll be allowed. _Dec. 23rd._ Had a walk with Katie—first walk had alone since her engagement. She was so happy that she was almost—a beastly word—_frisky_, Katie frisky! We’re miles away from one another just now, and that’s the truth. I suppose one must simply wait until this period’s passed away. But supposing it never passes away? Supposing she disappears altogether—from all of us. At any rate, what can one say? I like Philip, and can honestly say so, but I don’t think him the angel Gabriel. Not that Katie at present cares, in the least, what one thinks—she doesn’t wait to hear. She is making no plans, thinking of no possible future, imagining nothing. She never had any imagination, or at any rate never used it. Perhaps she’ll get some now from Philip, who has _plenty_—far too much. It’s _his_ trouble, I believe that he’s always imagining something a little better than he’s got.... We Trenchards have none. I haven’t any really—it’s only curiosity. Henry and I might have some if we were all very uncomfortable. But of course the whole family only keeps together because it can’t imagine things being different. _Are_ things going to be different now?... Rachel Seddon came to tea. Don’t like her. Thinks she owns Katie—and Katie’s let her. Went with the Aunts to the Messiah. Very long, with nice bits. Aunt Aggie had a crick in the neck, and wriggled all the time. Hope I get some money on Christmas Day or I shall be in an _awful_ hole.