From Punch, 8th December, 1943

The deeply regretted death of E. M. Delafield (Mrs. A. P. Dashwood) is a sad loss not only to her many friends, but to a large circle of readers in these pages and elsewhere, who were delighted by the sureness of her skill. They valued the never-failing ingenuity which she brought as a critic and humorist to every folly and absurdity of domestic life. She had contributed to Punch almost every week for more than eleven years, and nearly up to the end of her last illness. It was some time before her work, though well-known, had its due esteem from critics; but those who knew her books written at the end of the last war and just after it were astonished at her power to detect and expose humbug, self-importance, careerism and conceit. The woman who by self-imposed martyrdom inflicts constant trouble and annoyance on her family and friends, the fussy, the foolish and the vain were the constant targets of her wit. No one was less guilty of such weaknesses herself. None if she had detected them in herself would have been more swift and ready to laugh at them. She had a host of imitators, but they never rivalled her talent at its best. For herself and for her writing she will be greatly mourned and missed.

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