Monday, April 30th., Comarques, Thorpe-le-Soken.
Today, in accordance with time-table, I finished my novel "The Roll Call" at 4 p.m. 114,000 words. It is goodish I think, but that is it for the Clayhangers, unless I go further with my idea of writing an alternative ending to "Clayhanger" itself. It has been in my mind for a few days now and would be interesting to do. I don't think it's been done before and would generate some interest I think. And make a few bob! Probably write to Pinker about it.
I went to the Russian Exhibition today, not for pleasure but to put the sacred autograph into books and to answer questions by Lady Muriel P. and other toffs about how to make these enterprises hum. It is in aid of the Anglo-Russian Hospital. The Russian theatre in the basement of the Grafton Galleries is most excellent. Plays by Tolstoy and Tchekoff. To see a play with ideas in it was like having a bath. It made me want to sit down and write more plays at once. The Russian pictures were terrible. It would have been better to have had none. I haven't tried the Russian restaurant, but I shall.
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