I Closed the First Part Of My Narrative On The Day Of The Operation, The
Twenty-Fifth Of June.
I Open The Second Part, Between Six And Seven Weeks Later, On The Ninth
How Did The Time Pass At Dimchurch In that Interval?
Searching Backwards In my Memory, I Call To Life Again The Domestic
History Of The Six Weeks. It Looks, On Retrospection, Miserably Dull And
Empty Of Incident. I Wonder When I Contemplate It Now, How We Got Through
That Weary Interval--How We Bore That Forced inaction, That Unrelieved
Oppression Of Suspense.