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Asquith, Margot, 1864-1945

"Margot Asquith, an Autobiography - Two Volumes in One"

She said, 'A
nightingale.' This made me so angry that I nearly flung her to the
ground: 'No, fool! ... Rook!' said I."
I got up, feeling rather sorry for the young lady, but was so
afraid he was going to stop reading that I quickly opened The
Princess and put it into his hands, and he went on.
I still possess the little Maud, bound in its blue paper cover,
out of which he read to us, with my name written in it by
Tennyson.
The morning after my arrival I was invited by our host to go for a
walk with him, which flattered me very much; but after walking at
a great pace over rough ground for two hours I regretted my
vanity. Except my brother Glenconner I never met such an easy
mover. The most characteristic feature left on my mind of that
walk was Tennyson's appreciation of other poets.
Writing of poets, I come to George Wyndham. [Footnote: The late
Right Hon. George Wyndham.] It would be superfluous to add
anything to what has already been published of him, but he was
among the best-looking and most lovable of my circle.
He was a young man of nature endowed with even greater beauty than
his sister, Lady Glenconner, but with less of her literary talent.
Although his name will always be associated with the Irish Land
Act, he was more interested in literature than politics, and, with
a little self-discipline, might have been eminent in both.
Mr. Harry Cust is the last of the Souls that I intend writing
about and was in some ways the rarest end the most brilliant of
them all.


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