29 September
29 September
29 September 1920
Travelling to Menton, France
Darling
Your letter came today. I had looked forward to it so tremendously -and it told me what I wanted to know - it brought you close to me for a little moment.
Im rather upset. lve never got over that first illness - and I keep having fever. That's the truth. Fever & headache & nightmare pursue me. I should not have walked in that garden - it was too much & it has laid me low again. I must just keep dead quiet & pin my flag a small and trembling banner on to some less high mountain top for the present.
I tell you because its all of me for the moment. Disappointment - to be so weak and so queer. It will pass. Ill be glad when Jinnie & Connie come. I feel Id like barricades. One feels so alone when one is cast down again. Isn't it the irony of fate that just when it would be (so it seems) so much easier to get well if one were with ones darling - its denied. Well, we must just bear it - thats all! But the awful sense of insecurity. One puts
out ones hand & theres nothing there. (Are these three years a dream?)
Now Ive taken your hankyberchief & cried on your shoulder & you've kissed me - we'll wave it away. We'll get up & go on. Can you bear me to do that? Ah dearest - ought I to? Not to make you sad - never that -just to hear from you: I know Worm. I too am nearer you than ever before in spirit more.
Your Wig [Letter to J. M. Murry in Collected Letters 1920]