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4 April 1922
Dearest
I sent my last letter to Thurlow Road. Did the Hannays impound it - horrid thought! This I shall send to Pond Street and hope that the painters wont light their fires with it. Shall I in future always send your letters there? It's a very nice address. One sees it pond and all. But what I want to say first is.
Do come on the 18th. You will? You are coming? Im to expect you then? Don't put it off till May. I feel we shall be freer then for I dread to say who wont be in Paris in May. As it is the Schiffs have arrived. I haven't seen them though and am not going to for a week or so, though Im awfully fond of both of them. But we must be alone - that's flat. We must feel a bit free. Another reason. When I went to the clinique on Friday Manoukhin said that I should be on the turn in another week. Now he says it is from the 5th to the 10th one feels so ill and Ive had my 10th whack so I ought to be well on the turn by the 18th. I was rather in despair last Friday but suddenly just as I was getting on to the table Manoukhin began to talk about literature - about a story of Bunin's and one of Kuprin. This was such a joy that after that nothing mattered and I believed in everything. We began to rejoice over what was so fine in Bunin's work and - all was well. There is nothing on earth more powerful than love of work. [To Dorothy Brett, 4 April 1922.]