Your letter came just as I was on the point of leaving home. How happy I am that you liked At the Bay and that Madame likes my little children and the dog! But it is not your praise that I value most, although I am honoured and proud to have that. It is the fact you are watching my work, which is the most precious encouragement.

Yes, I have been working a great deal, but in my horrid bed where I've been for the past two months. I hope there are no beds in Heaven. But I managed to finish a long story there and several short ones.

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Now I have come to Paris to see a Russian doctor who promises to give me new wings for old. I have not seen him yet—so—though it's still a miracle—one believes. When I have seen him I shall go back to Montana again. After these long months in the mountains it's the flower shops I long to see. I shall gaze into them as little boys are supposed to gaze into pastry-cook's…

I hope you are well. It would be very delightful to think we might meet one day. But please remember how grateful I am.