17 September
17 September
17 September 1920
Travelling to Menton, France
Dear Darling,
Thank G. for Milne! Hold fast to him. He's so nice and shes not a bit nice. Shes like an unripe banana. Im longing to see your ‘Wilde-Harris'. I am sure O.W. was negligible but he is an astonishing figure. His letters, his mockeries and thefts - he's a Judas who betrays himself.
Which is the more tragic figure - the master without a disciple or the disciple without a master? . . . Thats by the way.
Can I have the Times Lit. Sup. I freeze I burn for the printed word.
You touch me so with what you say about my bouquets. I put them there expressly for you. I said to them: Please last as long as you can for him - and you understood.
Do kiss the cats noses for me. I thought I heard Wing crying the first night I was here. Which reminds me - there's a little kid tethered below and it "kyes and kyes so so defful."
Saturday. I sent my review last night. I do hope it arrives in time. Dearest Im better. Temperature normal - pain gone - up & lying in the salon. I am eating again too and now really will mend. But I have never been so thin - not even in Paris. Im simply melted like a candle with that fever. I rock when I stand. But - Hurrah! Its over. These cards are no good today. I will send a cleaner one tomorrow. Your own
Wig.
[Letter to J. M. Murry in Collected Letters]