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166 (con) July 17-23 Thursday, June 14, 1928 will stand out sharp and keen---like a finely tempered blade. It will not cut me--no--but be there---in the darkness---in the dawn---till the song[[?]] is ended...... Always, Leighton After a bolted supper and careless packing we went on board the "[[?]] I" for Barcelona. As we sat on deck waiting for the boat to go, as the sirens blew their harsh, hard sounds, and as I strained over the rail to see every bit of the black form that was Mallorca I felt truly that "partir, c'est [[?]] [[?]] [[?]]." Am aching for the happy days- for the beauty- for the gentle, kindly, peaceful atmosphere, for Reed. And I began to hate myself for having hurt him--for not having forgotten Bob for five days and gone to him. Why didn't I? I don't know - was I afraid he would go too far, was it because I didn't love him, was it because I couldn't on account of Bob? I don't know-and now I am sorry. I may never see him again, and it would have made Heaven complete. Why didn't I really kiss him that night we sat on the dusty wall and saw spread above us the [[rich?]] sky? Why, since I didn't, do I miss now seeing him, seeing those deep and [[?]] eyes, miss his charm and appeal miss holding tight that darling head, and stroking ever so gently the curly red hair 167 (con) July 17-23 Friday, June 15, 1928 or the broad forehead? I suppose it is best that I acted as I did, because I do love Bob so very much more-more than anyone---but then why do I miss and feel so lonely for Reed-. Were it not for Mother, were I alone here, I mean, I should say to hell with Madrid, and St. Jean-de-Luz, and Jean-les-Pins-and go back to Palua-back to Heaven-back to Reed. But that's impossible naturally-and I must go on the long road---Time, yes-time can cure us of anything-love for a person or for a place-but time can't dim my memories of Palua- ever-changing in light and color and sound-always beautiful-always sublte [[subtle?]]--- my memories of Reed---and his love for me - of me. "taking his [[tiredness?]] home"-- of me, not realising it but loving him - but for some inexplicable reason not admitting it to him or to myself. Will I ever see him again -? Who knows? Oh yes - "partir, c'est [[?]] [[?]]" Mother was sea-sick on the trip back and I was evidently not sympathetic enough, but I didn't know what to do and was awfully sad and sleepy. Then Barcelona (July 20), a modern city, sharply reminiscent of Paris. It isn't "Spanish"...."The Ramblas", the main street, is Parisian - the stores are continental---and so are the people. We saw a beautiful funeral. The Cathedral is very lovely, although a bit fancy. I felt it wasn't high enough or spacious enough, altho' Badeakker [[Baedeker]] says the proportions [[left margin]] July 21 [[/left margin]] [[left margin]] July 22 [[/left margin]]
