BR's letter to Tiny, when she was gravely ill, is found in Anne Fremantle's Three-Cornered Heart, page 191.

"I have just heard from your daughter the very painful news of your grave illness. It makes me very sad. There is not much one can say. I can imagine your perfect courage.

"So many long ago memories are associated with you—children's parties at your house and Pembroke Lodge and the Burdetts'—your father walking over by Twickenham Ferry on Sundays—his reminiscences of the Metaphysical Society dividing on 'Is there a God?'—the times when I was barely grown up and used to come to York House and listen with admiration while you talked of Kater Murr, Verlaine, Dostoevsky, etc., most of which I bought in consequence. How difficult it is to live in the modern world when that was the world to which one's early habits were adjusted! I do not like exile, particularly because it means not seeing old friends. I hope to return to England in 1945, but that is too late."