Feeling feeble

Wednesday, January 6th., Rue de Calais, Paris.

All day yesterday I was ill, probably owing to mussel soup at Sylvain's on Monday night, but I do not feel sure. I was there with Rhoden and the dinner seemed admirable, but perhaps my assessment was premature. Rawson came for his lunch and I was obliged to send him away again.

Chichi came in the evening and stayed until midnight. I had slept nearly all day but was still too tired for any sensual experiences. Pity as she was on good form and clearly only awaited a little encouragement. Still we had a good talk. As curiously illustrating the customs of costume she told me that she cannot go out to do household shopping in a hat. She must go bare-headed. The matrons of Burslem would be horrified. 

I couldn't read anything yesterday but newspapers. I read Stead's new paper, The Daily Paper, first number, all through. It made me admire the man, but if the paper succeeds I shall be surprised. He is certainly a controversial figure - journalist, editor, pacifist and spiritualist. Of course he served time in prison following the notorious Eliza Armstrong case. In fact this is the re-launch of the paper and seems to me to be aimed at domestic readers, particularly women. My sense is that he has passed his high-water mark.

Although feeble I did a good day's work today.

Davray called, and handed me the half-price ticket for Mentone he obtained for me through the Mercure de France. Rhoden gave me an excellent Viennese dinner at an Austrian restaurant in the Rue d'Hauteville. Afterwards at the Grand Cafe he enlarged on his international experiences as an insurance man.