nearly one in the morning
My heart warmed to her when we first met in the same lodging-house two years ago , and , although I am not one of the over-affectionate sort myself , I feel as if I could go to the world 's end to serve that girl . Yet , strange to say , if I was asked why I was so fond of her , I do n't think I should know how to answer the question . March 7th . I am almost ashamed to write it down , even in this journal , which no eyes but mine ever look on ; yet I must honestly confess to myself that here I am , at nearly one in the morning , sitting up in a state of serious uneasiness because Mary has not yet come home . I walked with her this morning to the place where she works , and tried to lead her into talking of the relations she has got who are still alive . My motive in doing this was to see if she dropped anything in the course of conversation which might suggest a way of helping her interests with those who are bound to give her all reasonable assistance . But the little I could get her to say to me led to nothing .