Saturday 3rd March 1934

Happy day. Placid and unvivid, but happy. And sunny. Many pleasant little incidents but no big ones, so I will record none. Except that I accidentally met Peggy in the middle of the Medes. Her finger nails are painted; yesterday she went to a theatre. We made conversation in a friendly way for a while, then parted. I did not look back as I crossed the wide Medes.

The magic spell is fading now. At last. I am glad it is so. It was all so impossible – for 1933 or 1934 at least. I strove against a kindly fate. Fool!