Dearest Diary,
I at last returned correspondence to Mr. Adam and will wait to hear from him again. At the urging of my cousin, I have agreed to accept the invitation for tea with the gentleman. I must admit, however that I do not hold great anticipation of his reply. I so long for the anguish of being crossed in love, but there is rarely an opportunity to submit to it. Mr. Adam is not the recipient of such affection, nor is the gentleman we last spoke of.
So I turn my thoughts toward the lectures I am to deliver at the University tomorrow. There is oft little time to dwell on such idle thoughts as marriage and furniture, though I'd much prefer it to the alternative at present. Dear Brahms and Mozart, however must be the gentlemen for me. I shall study their speech and their lightness of foot. And I shall pretend to be in love with them, though they are no longer the eligible bachelors who come to ask for my hand.
Perhaps all will change tomorrow...
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