No change in the dreadful suspicions that the bare sight of it rouses in me.

I tremble if I so much as touch it.
March 15th, 16th, 17th.

Work, work, work.

If I don't knock up, I shall be able to pay back the advance in another week; and then, with a little more pinching in my daily expenses, I may succeed in saving a shilling or two to get some turf to put over Mary's grave, and perhaps even a few flowers besides to grow round it.
March 18th.

Thinking of Robert all day long.