Friday, 12 October 1883

Miss Webb writes to me from Concarneau, in reply to my question about the weather, that it is impossible to paint en plein air there at present. And so in winter, all in all, I believe my Concarneau is washed out. That settles a good many things. We went to lunch at Jouy, and around five o'clock we find Adeline at home; we talk until six, and then nothing.