Jan 30 Darling Mother. A word in answer to your letters of Dec 21 and 29. It's very curious what you tell me about the anarchy of the universe. Perhaps after all it isn't anarchy, but only the end of the order we're accustomed to. There's no doubt it has come to an end, East and West, and we can't say it was so unmitigatedly good as to be ready to uphold it against all comers. But your attitude to the new people seems to me to be much the same as mine, namely to find a modus vivendi. There's room enough in the sun for us all - I'm not very certain, by the way, that that's true. Perhaps there's just not enough sun to keep us all warm. And it's very much open to doubt whether a six hours' day all round, or even an 8 hours' day will really keep the world clothed and fed.
However - I feel sure you're right not to bother about the curtseys, just as I feel sure I'm right not to bother about British prestige. If we're the right sort we'll get curtseys of another kind, and if we aren't we don't deserve them.

Bill must be a darling, and how nice to have Elsa in health and spirits. Father gives a very interesting account of Pauline. Kitty was always the most attractive creature.

I wonder if you're in London now, or what doing [sic].

I've just been reading Mrs Asquith's book and I confess it leaves me bewildered. Unless my judgement has gone entirely astray, it is completely détraqué. She records conversations cleverly - as when Jowett says that his lady love was violent, very violent - but her maxims on life seem to me to be meaningless and her appreciations of people quite artificial. There must however be more in it than I can manage to extract. At any rate she is a human being though her experience which she holds to be so wide, seems to me to cover a very small area of existence. Ever dearest your very affectionate daughte Gertrude

A wet Sunday, or rather a muddy one, is a very boring thing!