Once again, my darling, I congratulate you, and wish you all happiness. Good-night.—Your dearest Mamma.
LETTER XXXI
Monk's Folly, 19th November
Darling Elizabeth:
Home again
Simply couldn't endure it in town in November by myself, so came home to-day. Yesterday, after Blanche left, I counted up the things I could do by myself in order to kill time. In spite of London being so big, there are so few things one can do by oneself to amuse oneself. The early post brought me the proofs from Alice Hughes; Paquin comes out splendidly, but I look silly in the one in which I am standing near a balustrade, holding a sheaf of wheat. I have ordered a dozen of myself in a garden, under a lovely old tree, with a stuffed greyhound at my side. It looks awfully natural, and you would never dream I was more than twenty. I thought the proofs had been sent me by mistake, till I recognised my frock, and then when you look at them a long time, you see how really like you they are. They are just the thing to send one's acquaintances.
Lady Sophia Dashton's Novel