Saturday Morning:

Yesterday I was so restless I could not settle to anything. I read pages
and pages of Plato and was conscious that the words were going over in
my head without conveying the slightest meaning, and that the other part
of my mind was absorbed with thoughts of Miss Sharp--. If I only dared
to be natural with her we surely could be friends, but I am always
obsessed with the fear that she will leave me if I transgress in the
slightest beyond the line she has marked between us--. I see that she is
determined to remain only the secretary, and I realize that it is her
breeding which makes her act as she does--. If she were familiar or
friendly with me, she would feel it was not correct to come to my flat
alone--She only comes at all because the money is so necessary to
her--and having to come, she protects her dignity by wearing this ice
mask.--I know that she was affronted by Coralie's look on Thursday, and
that is why she went home pretending the typing machine was out of
order--Now if any more of these contretemps happen she will probably
give me warning. Burton instinctively sensed this, and that is why he
disapproved of my asking her to lunch--If she had been an ordinary
typist Burton would not have objected in the least,--as I said before,
Burton knows the world!