30 May 1921

30 May 1921

Hotel Beau Site, Clarens-Montreux, Switzerland

(I heard today that Spahlinger costs I4 horses to begin with!!!!!)
My dear Love,
Last evening came your perfect letter written on Friday. I mean the one in which you wonder whether you ‘ought’ to have said more about Stephani’s report.? Love, as I read it, I understood your saying you loved me was the answer & especially your speaking of our future. I wanted nothing else. It was just as though after Id said something important to you, you crossed the room & for some heavenly reason - kissed me. You see, my precious? It was a perfect reply.
The fact is Veen that we have decided (those mysterious two have) not to speak about my illness any more than is ‘necessary'. They just dont. There is no need to any more. Its for the same reason that when they are together it may happen that they don’t talk to each other at all & even look out of different windows. It seems to me it all began one day going to Castellar. No, I could trace it back deeper still. But n’importe. It isn’t possible to love anyone more than I love you. I wish I were a better girl in all ways. I mean to write a work one day which will be my kind of a love poem. Oh, Heavens! To think you’re coming over here & we shall gather fruit together this autumn. Did I tell you Sierre is renommé for its golden grape? I told you about the wine. But in September, so they say, the whole little town goes into the vineyards. Shall you be there - shall I? Bogey & Wig with brown hands & leaves in their hair? Sitting at the foot of a tiny green mountain that has small leaping white goats on it. It makes an awfully nice piggleture.

[To J. M. Murry in Collected Letters, c. 24 May.]