Tuesday 21st November 1933

Little sleep last night. After a weary morning I met Peggy, at the Medes end. We went to the cinema – the three of us. When I spoke I tried to appear bored, uninterested. My tones were slow and precise, for ordinary voice would have betrayed me. She glanced at me tauntingly and snubbed me. A very strange look when I suggested Harvey should ride to Chertsey with her, instead of me. Every minute of thought hurts. Cannot be many more evenings like this.

There was a lovely song – “While there are stars above…”, and then later – “While there are dreams to dream, why should we wake?” Wake! I cannot sleep. Bitter-sweet has just become bitterness. That is precisely the case.