Tuesday 5th March 1935

I’ve arranged to see Peggy next Monday, March 11th. Our last outing. Doubtless I shall feel very miserable – before and afterwards.

We went for a stroll tonight. In one of her most charming moods, which makes the thought of next Monday much worse. Shall not be able to drown my sorrows in lots of artificial gaiety either, for I’ll be hard up. Bus to Chertsey. Along the Old Coach Road, through the woods. Sometimes trees seemed to close in on us, hanging over.
Stars, no moon. We paused at romantic spots but I never kissed her though she was often in my arms. Saw nobody; we were very much alone. Came, later. To the old power station (gaunt and sinister) and I pretended it was strange to me.

Delightful evening – and I felt sad instead of happy. (Her hand often stealing into mine as we walked.) “Race nearly run”