Yesterday afternoon I suddenly decided that I couldn't proceed with my story about Elsie until I had been up to Clerkenwell again. So at 4.50 I got a taxi and went up Myddleton Square.
4-storey houses, and church nearly in the middle, with clock damnably striking the quarters, was very romantic. I had to correct several of my memories of the architecture. I walked round the Square gazing, and going up to front doors and examining door-plates and making notes under gas lamps (very damp and chilly) while the taxi followed me slowly in the mud.
Then I drove up to the Angel and saw that it had been truly conquered and annexed by the Lyons ideals. Still, it was doing good up in Islington, much good.