Griffin Barry, who used to be the Russian correspondent of the LONDON DAILY HERALD, came to fetch me, and took me I don’t know where, to a studio belonging to Miss Bessie Beatty who has written a book on the Russian Revolution. There were a lot of people but I only knew Mr. and Mrs. Bullitt; he has been to Russia and she is very beautiful. I met Mr. Kenneth Durant, who is left in charge of the Soviet office in the absence of Martens. He has an extremely interesting, rather faun-like head. We all sat around the room with plates on our laps and were fed. It was primitive but an extremely good idea, and one I shall adopt if ever I want to give a bigger party in my studio than I have table space for. A certain amount of politics was talked afterwards, in which I dared not join. In conservative circles I dare not talk politics for fear of being called Bolshevik. In Bolshevik circles I keep silent for fear they discover how ignorant I am! Durant left early, and I had no chance of talking with him. He has rather an enigmatic smile, and says very little. SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 1921. Dick and I spent most of the day out at Yonkers with our cousin, Travers Jerome, Jr., and his wife, Joy, who is very good looking. The boy child is of the type that mine and Shane Leslie’s are, so I suppose it’s the Jerome blood! My American family seem to be very nice. Mama often wanted to talk about them, but we never would let her! I dined with Maxine Elliot, and had on one side of me Mr. George Creel, and on the other Mr. Swope. The latter is the editor of THE WORLD, but I did not know it at first or I might not have said some of the things I did. There is a type of American! What force, what energy (“dynamic,” I said of him to someone. “No--cyclonic!” they corrected)! I asked him, when I was able to get a word in edgeways, how he manages to revitalize, he seemed to me to expend so much energy. He said he got it back from me, from everyone, that what he gives out he gets back, it is a sort of circle. He was so vibrant that I found my heart thumping with excitement as though I had drunk champagne, which I hadn’t! He talks a lot but talks well, is never dull.... In England one hesitates to accept to dine out unless one is very sure who is going to be there. Here one can go at random, it may be strange, it may be incomprehensible, but never is it dull! I wonder if it is simply the novelty of the first weeks in America, or is it the interest of continually exploring new people--? MONDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 1921. _13 East 55th Street._