Write me a letter when you feel inclined to—will you? I am staying here for a while instead of at the rooms in page 13 London. I understood you that week-end at the Lawrences' for I have been like that myself. It is a kind of paralysis that comes of living alone and to oneself and it is really painful…. I was silly and unsympathetic, for Lawrence could not understand it because he has never felt it and I should have been wiser. But come quite alive again this Spring—will you? I do not know how it is in London just now but here the very fact of walking about in the air makes one feel that flowers and leaves are dropping from your hair and from your fingers. I could write you a long letter but I am afraid you cannot read my handwriting. Tell me if you can and then I will. Yes, write to me here.

The nights are full of stars and little moons and big Zeppelins—very exciting. But England feels far far away—just a little island with a cloud resting on it. Is it still there?