Diary of a Drug Fiend

240 The Diary of a Drug Fiend It won’t do to let him go under; and they must know that. I won’t trouble my silly head about it, I’ll keep on loving and trusting. October 26 I have forgotten about my diary all this time. I have been too busy with Peter. My memory is fright- fully bad. I don’t seem able to fix things at all. Peter got stronger all the time. He is practically quite well now, and took me out and taught me to shoot pheasants this morning. It was terribly exciting. I actually got one, my very first day. I got a man and wife and their daughter to come in and do for us, so we're really very comfortable, in a countrified way. I couldn’t have any one while Peter was raving. The waiter from the inn is a Swiss. He kept his mouth shut ; and I saw to it that he had no reason to regret the policy. What I can’t remember is how Peter began to get better: mentally, I mean. I ought to have kept this diary properly, I know, but as he improved, he took up more and more of my time, and then I had to do so many things to have things ready for him when he was able to get up. And now, I can’t think how it came about; but I believe the first sign of improvement was that the poem dropped out. He began to talk naturally about ordinary affairs. He was terribly weak and ill, and it had scared him. He was like an ordinary convalescent, I suppose—signs of returning interests in the affairs of life. I had ceased to be asymbol. I was just his nurse. Part of the time he had forgotten who I was. He was back in the base hospital; the time they winged him. Our honeymoon and its sequel is mostly blotted out. I can’t say how much he knows. He says things some- times which make me think it’s quite a lot. And then again, other things which make me think he doesn’t even. remember that I am his wife. This morning, for instance, he said: “ I must go to London