What—of all other things—seems so hard is how we swore not to let each other go again … and then how soon … we were gone. Yesterday, thinking of all this in the afternoon, I wept so. I could not bear it: I thought I must come back and die there rather than always this living apart. But now that I am stronger to-day I feel that all may yet be well, and the Heron, now that I am away from London, is so clear and perfect.

I opened this letter to say A. and D. have both been here, and the doctor, too. He says I am getting on all right. I must stay in bed for the present, and I must take cod liver oil and iron mixed! ! He is just like a student in a Tchehov book. But he promises me that as soon as my left lung calms down I can go out and drive and sit on the beach. Oh, such glorious prospecks! A. is being perfect. I am eating all I see and milk 4 times a day and butter and cream. Bacon for breakfast: new laid egg-wegs. The food is excellent….

But you know, I shall always be homesick.