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24 August 1922

6 Pond Street, Hampstead, London

We have seen my Papa. He will live for hundreds of years, growing redder and firmer and fatter for ever. As to his "fund of humorous stories" it doesn't bear thinking about. I felt I must creep under the table during lunch. I said to my sisters while we powdered our noses together "Dont you find his stories a little tiring". And they cried (they always say the same) "Oh but the old dear does so enjoy telling them and he really is most amusing!" The only reply was to cross oneself.
   I saw Sydney last night who delivered a formal apology for the way he has spoken and written about John. But he regards me with a very mistrustful eye. He expects to find a pin in every crumb one offers, this is not very exhilarating. Bother these solemn, intellectual, superior old mind-probers. I wish I had warm hearted simple friends who had never heard of Einstein. [To Elizabeth, Countess Russell, 23 August 1922.]