Saturday 2nd December 1933

Dismally cold again. And I, too, am dismal. Almost too gloomy to write. After tea I went to Ashford and delivered my note at the Ramble Secretary’s house. Through Staines, along a dark main road into a chilly wind, then through to Ashford. Faces. Faces under street lamps; in the light from shop windows; faces in the darkness.

Back at digs, I sat silently in the fire glow until Harvey came. He had been out with Peggy; and as he talked, my hurt began all over again. Now I am left alone, wondering – are girls really like this – devilish?