26 January 1922

Chalet des Sapins, Montana-sur-Sierre, Switzerland

I would not change this kind of life for any other. There are moods of course when we long for people. But they pass, leaving no regret, no disillusionment, no horrid remembrance. And one does have time to work. But I wish my new book was a better one. I am terrified of it. But it can't be helped now. M. is writing hard, and I am in the middle of what looks like a short novel.
   I am so glad you liked The Veil. There is one poem:
              Why has the rose faded and fallen
              And these eyes have not seen. . .
It haunts me. But it is a state of mind I know so terribly well. That regret for what one has not seen and felt - for what has passed by - unheeded. Life is only given once and then I waste it. Do you feel that?
   Are there snowdrops yet. It will soon be February - and then the worst is over. By March the first flowers emerge, cold, pale as if after the Flood. But how one loves them! And that soft stirring in the trees - in elms especially - and the evening, coming reluctant again. Dearest, I am so glad for your sake that it will soon be spring. I hate winter for you. I wish I could come into your room now and say "the lilac is out". Is it only in winter that your dreaded neuralgia is so painful? There's no excuse for winter - none!
   I have given M. your messages. He skis everwhere, and skates no more. He looks awfully well. Elizabeth is here, buried in her chalet at work. She is one creature who never has to think of health. She is always well - never even tired and is as active as if she were eighteen.
   My dull letter creeps after your winged one - But it is sent with so much love. Love from us both, dearest Ottoline - and may we meet again soon!
                       Ever yours devotedly
 [To Ottoline Morrell, c.24 January 1922.] 

Dear Mr Pinker,
   Today I received, direct from The Mercury a cheque for twenty-five pounds. I enclose herewith a cheque for two pounds ten which I believe to be the correct percentage. Will you kindly inform me if this is so?
   I have written a new story for The Sketch and hope to get it typed tomorrow.
               Yours sincerely
             Katherine Mansfield [To J. B. Pinker, 26 January 1922.]