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St. Stephen's House,
London, S. W. 1.

lst October, 1931.

My own darling,

I have just got your letter. I would like you to write
to St. Stephen's Club and not to St. Stephen's House. Then I can
read your letter at breakfast .

I am sorry about the water, but I think we shall soon
have some wind. I wrote strongly to Tommie; but I think a wire
from you, as the sufferer on the spot, might melt his heart.

You will see that my poor little Orpen is dead. It is
a terrible tragedy. I do hope the picture has been sent off to
Peebles, for otherwise it may get mixed up with his effects.*

Things are going better. An election, I think, is now
certain. I only hope we get shut of Samuel, who is making himself
impossible. The House is a very queer hive of gossip. I spend
my time trying to screw S.B. up to an interview with Oman, and in
trying to find a seat for the P.M. I think the New English Univ-
ersities would be the best way, and put out Miss Rathbone.

I dined with John Astor last nigh. There was a Labour
dinner party next door, which included Jimmie Maxton and a funny
mousy little woman, who was afterwards brought up and introduced
to me as Miss Ethel Mannin.

I am very well. I am writing a line to Julian on his
retirement. I think you ought to do the same. Expect me by the
4.45 tomorrow.

[ST:* Now in Alastair Buchan's possession]

Much love

from

John