February 3
H⸺ B⸺ invited me to tea to meet his fiancée.
Rather pleased with the invitation—I don’t know why, for my idea of myself is greater than my idea of him and probably greater than his idea of himself.
Yet I went and got shaved, and even thought of buying a new pair of gloves, but poverty proved greater than vanity, so I went with naked hands. On arriving at Turnham Green, I removed my spectacles (well knowing how much they damage my personal appearance). However, the beauty of the thing was that, though I waited as agreed, he never turned up, and so I returned home again, crestfallen—and, with my spectacles on again.