Dearest Diary,
Afternoons spent in the company of good friends are the ones I tend to savour. If it weren't for tea with such a friend and a letter from Mr. Radar, I would consider the day insignificant. Our topic of conversation inevitably lead to one of eligible bachelors, and what one might consider when faced with the prospect of marriage. She chided me for proposing to the American yesterday, for we have always had another gentleman in mind. Mr. Hicks is one you've heard much about. But as Mr. Hicks has been absent from this bit of the country, I acted on impulse. A move I dare not recommend. It is to no detriment however for I have still not received word back from Mr. Seacrest, and I dare not ask again. As for the sorts of characteristics I require in a husband, the other gentleman whose name arose, does not meet the full doctrine of qualifications. But he certainly meets enough to entertain such thoughts.
Mr. Radar offered some consoling verses in his correspondence and I am not unequal to such a diversion. He seems to be most successful at such times when other gentlemen have failed.
That is, most other gentlemen have failed. As for Mr. Radar and the man I dare not mention, I shall dwell on such musings until tomorrow...
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