I dined with Cunninghame. He talked of the Madras appointment, and said it was absurd offering it to A. The tropics made him ill. He was ill even in Egypt. He said Housman had a small flat in London, where he stays during the week.
Cunninghame dined at Aunt Ruth's. I went after dinner. So did A. I could see Aunt Ruth was pleased. Uncle Arthur confused Cunninghame with A. and congratulated C. on his answers in the House of Lords.
Lady Jarvis gave a small musical party, which was what I call a large musical party. Someone sang Russian songs, and Bernard Sachs played Mozart on the harpsichord. It would have been very enjoyable had there not been such a crowd. Housman was there, but not Mrs Housman.
Went down to Staines this afternoon. Mrs Housman, A., Cunninghame, Miss Macdonald, and Mrs Campion were there. Housman was expected and had told Mrs Housman he was coming by a later train, but he sent a telegram saying he had been detained in London.
It poured with rain all day, so we sat indoors. Mrs Housman played and sang. She drove to church in the morning in a shut fly.
_Letter from Guy Cunninghame to Mrs Caryl_
I have just come back from Rosedale, where we had a most amusing Sunday, rather spoilt by the incessant rain. Of course it cleared up _this_ morning, and it's now a glorious day. The Housmans were asked and she came, and he was expected by a later train, but chucked at the last minute. Nobody was there except Mrs Campion, Freda, and Godfrey.
We had a lot of music. Mrs Housman never let George have one moment's conversation with her. He is quite miserable. It is quite clear that she has cut him out of her life. I think it would have been better if he had gone to Madras. It's too late now, they've appointed someone else.
Last Tuesday I went to a huge dinner-party at Lady Arthur Mellor's, Godfrey's aunt. Sir Arthur is quite gaga and took me for George the whole evening. I sat between an English blue stocking and the wife of one of the Russian secretaries. She told me rather pointedly that these were the kind of people she preferred. "Ici," she said, "on voit de vrais Anglais, des gens vraiment bien." There was no gainsaying that.
But of course the chief news, which you probably have heard, is that Louise Shamier has left her husband, and she is going to marry Lavroff--that is to say, if she gets a divorce. He apparently refused to do the necessary in the way of making a divorce possible, so she has left him and has gone to Italy with Lavroff. Everybody thinks it is the greatest pity, and I, personally, am miserable about it. The only comfort is that it might have been George.