I wrote 400 words of "Accident" before going out; then forty minutes' activity in the streets of London; then another 300 words. Then lunch with Dorothy. Then a sleep - not deep or reposeful. Then another 400 words, finishing another chapter.
I was then in a state of nerves. But having the scheme of the prefatory note which Bertie Sullivan and Newman Flower desired me to write for their biography of Arthur Sullivan, I decided to write it at once, and I did so, getting it off my chest. 400 words.
Sprightly. I then went out for a walk in the fair but unsatisfactory weather. Returned by bus. Dined alone with Dorothy. We played the greater part of Schubert's Octet - pianoforte 4 mains. Great noise and fun, which did me much good, for I had been depressed.
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