"This is a long, long letter. I can't seem to let it go to you—as though when I mail it I am snapping one more bond that still seems to hold us together.
"My daily life is agreeable if a trifle monotonous. I have been out two or three times, once to see the Morgan Collection at the Metropolitan Museum—very dazzling and wonderful. What strange thoughts it evoked in me—thrilling, delightful, exhilarating—as though inspiring me to some blind effort or other. Isn't it ridiculous?—as though I had it in me to do anything or be anybody! I'm merely telling you how all that exquisite art affected me—me—a working girl. And Oh, Clive! I don't think anything ever gave me as much pleasure as did the paintings by the French masters, Lancret, Drouais, and Fragonard! (You see I had a catalogue!)
"Another evening I went out with Catharine. Mr. Reeve asked us, and another man. We went to see 'Once Upon a Time' at the Half-Moon Theatre, and afterward we went to supper at the Café Columbine.
"Another evening the other man, Mr. Reeve's friend, a Mr. Hargrave, asked me to see 'Under the Sun' at the Zig-Zag Theatre. It was a tiresome show. We went to supper afterward to meet Catharine and Mr. Reeve.
"That is all except that I've dined out once or twice with Mr. Hargrave. And, somehow or other I felt queer and even conspicuous going to the Regina with him and to other places where you and I have been so often together...Also I felt a little depressed. Everything always reminded me of you and of happy
evenings with you. I can't seem to get used to going about with other men. But they seem to be very nice, very kind, and very amusing.
"And a girl ought to be thankful to almost anybody who will take her out of her monotony.
"I'm afraid you've given me a taste for luxury and amusement. You have spoiled me I fear. I am certainly an ungrateful little beast, am I not, to lay the blame on you! But it is dull, Clive, after working all day to sit every evening reading alone, or lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling, waiting for the others to come home.
"If it were not for that darling cat you gave me I'd perish of sheer solitude. But he is such a comfort, Hafiz; and his eyes are the bluest blue and his long, winter fur the snowiest white, and his ruff is wonderful and his tail magnificent. Also he is very affectionate to me. For which, with perfect reverence, I venture to thank God.
"Good night, Clive. If you've struggled through this letter so far you won't mind reading that I am faithfully and always your friend,