I have your letter, and have asked our mutual friend to forward my reply to you. I am so glad that you did not allow Mrs. Grundy to enter that rose-grey bower of yours, which sounds so attractive. I am sure she would find the color scheme most unbecoming!
I am so glad that you care for my book. It is my first, and I have a weakness for it. I am afraid I do not sing for the many, but for the few. Time was, when I had hoped to be minstrel for all the world, but that is past now. And I am content with what I do, if it can call forth letters like yours.
Will you not write me again, and tell me as much of yourself as you care to? Or am I asking too much? I hope not, for your letter has given me such pleasure. It has made a little happy spot for me along the way, an oasis in that Desert of Loneliness which all of us know so well.
It is hard to think of you as really "shut-in." Somehow, I make a different mental picture of you.
If you will let me write to you, you will have to bear with hearing me tell of my dreams. But I am sure you could not treat them other than gently. And perhaps we can make for each other a little rendezvous of pen and ink, where we may meet and talk awhile.
Yours very gratefully,
Richard Warren
From a Secluded Spot
July 14th
Dear and Friendly Unknown:
Thank you for your letter. I shall be glad to share my quiet days with you.
You ask me about myself.