_Tuesday, July 31, 1917._
Now I have forgotten the last day and page of my diary, and so I’ll just
write today. Well, I got kicked out of my bed because the man whose bed
I was using returned, and I had to go into another room because there
was no more room in that one. I now have a nice new bed. That is the
second time I have had to change rooms and roommates. Oh, well.
I have made a regular discovery. One of the boys has a whole set of
Balzac’s works. I shall devour them. I have read a book a day for three
days now; all my spare time I read. The weather is too hot to enjoy
beating about; also I do not want to risk being handed a prison sentence
for being out of place. They have strict rules and lax enforcement, but
they get men now and then.
I had a letter today from Gaubert thanking me for the candy and asking
me to come to stay at his house while in Paris.
Oh, I have meant to say that nothing was ever better named than the
comfort bag. In hotel or in camp it is equally good, and nothing is
lacking. Marjorie’s wash rag is the best I’ve ever had. I didn’t suppose
a knitted wash rag would be any good. Another thing that fills the bill
is my suitcase. It is the best looking and lightest one I’ve seen on the
trip. Maybe more of my equipment will be of use than I had thought.
_August 10, 1917._