Cys Asquith, who was the youngest of the family, combined what was best in all of them morally and intellectually and possessed what was finer than brains.

He was two, when his mother died, and a clumsy ugly little boy with a certain amount of graceless obstinacy, with which both Tennants and Asquiths were equally endowed.  To the casual observer he would have appeared less like me than any of my step-family, but as a matter of fact he and I had the most in common; we shared a certain spiritual foundation and moral aspiration that solder people together through life.

It is not because I took charge of him at an early age that I say he is more my own than the others, but because, although he did not always agree with me, he never misunderstood me.  He said at Murren one day, when he was seventeen and we had been talking together on life and religion: 

“It must be curious for you, Margot, seeing all of us laughing at things that make you cry.”

This showed remarkable insight for a schoolboy.  When I look at his wonderful face now and think of his appearance at the time of our marriage, I am reminded of the Hans Andersen toad with the jewel in its head, but the toad is no longer there.

I have a dear friend called Bogie Harris,[Footnote:  Mr. H. Harris, of Bedford Square.] who told me that, at a ball given by Con and Hoppy Manners, he had seen a young man whose face had struck him so much that he looked about for some one in the room to tell him who it was.  That young man was Cyril Asquith.

One night when he was a little boy, after I had heard him say his prayers he asked me to read the General Confession out of his Prayer Book to him.  It was such an unusual request that I said: 

“Very well, darling, I will, but first of all I must read you what I love best in the Prayer Book.”

To which he answered: 

“Oh, do!  I should like that.”

I put a cushion behind my head and, lying down beside him, read: 

“Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord; and by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night, for the love of Thine only Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ.  Amen.”

After this I read him the General Confession, opening, “We have erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep,” and ending, “that we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life.”  When I had finished I said to him: 

“What do you take sober to mean here, darling?”

Cys (looking furtively at me with his little green eyes):  “It does not mean drunkenness.” (A slight pause and then reflectively):  “I should say moderate living.”