London never was so dull or deserted since I've known it, nor ever so depressed.

The military (land) operations are not cheerful; the hospitals are all full; I see more wounded soldiers by far than at any previous time; the Zeppelins came somewhere to this island every night for a week--one of them, on the night of the big raid, was visible from our square for fifteen or twenty minutes--in general it is a dull and depressing time.

I have thought that since you were determined to run off with a young fellow, you chose a pretty good time to go away.

I'm afraid there'll be no more of what we call "fun" in this town as long as we stay here.
Worse yet: in spite of the Coalition Government and everybody's wish to get on smoothly and to do nothing but to push the war, since Parliament convened there's been a great row, which doesn't get less.

The labour men give trouble; people blame the politicians: Lloyd George is saving the country, say some; Lloyd George ought to be hanged, say others.