I went up to the concert, & heard the ghosts of lovely things, since the subtsance somehow escaped me; partly owing to my mood, partly to the usual vulgarity of Wood.  Even so the ghosts of the two Bach pieces (one for a duet of violins) were exquisitely lovely. Edith Sichel, whose entire soul is now open to me through her letters, makes me determine to write descriptions neither of pictures nor of music.