Wednesday 18th March 1936

Went across the eerie Stanwell Resevoir with Gwyneth Elaine. A few weeks ago – February 3rd to be precise – I kissed Gwyn, almost against her will. Ever since then – cunning swine – I’ve refrained, although sometimes longing to have her in my arms.

Tonight, however, I stopped refraining (Dammit, we shall probably be apart in a fortnight’s time!). “Make the most of what we yet may spend…” I heard her say “Stephen” for the first time.

Some time afterwards, cynicism returned, I was able to laugh at the thought of Miss Rowlands and Mr Dawson, making love like a pair of country bumkin sweethearts.
She is nor pretty – ‘cept her hair and eyes. Guess I must be attracted by her strange reserve. That, and the fact that she, too, is crazily irresponsible. Perhaps just as well that our paths will surely separate in the near future. What?

(Page torn from journal.)