Friday, 19 September 1884

He is worse still. We did not know what to do — to leave or to stay — before this man crying out in pain, and then smiling at us.
To go is to let on that he is very ill; to stay is to sit there like spectators while he writhes in pain —
I am dreadful — I speak of it without delicacy; it seems one ought to find words more… that is to say, less…
Poor child.