Tuesday 9th April 1935

After a scanty lunch beside the river, I cycled to the village to post a letter.
Found Peggy at the Medes and, waiting for me in the rain. (Hair wind-blown, eyes a-sparkle) Had I been trying to avoid her? Oh, no! (She is the perfect woman – except she does not love me)… Saw her remove a glove, perhaps to shake hands in parting.

Couldn’t say goodbye there, so miserably. So I’ll see her just once more – weakling!