Well, I never did!--Lucinda, open the blinds to the other window,
too--so I--can--see to--" her voice died away,--she was too deep in the letter
to recollect what she was saying.
Mitchell wrote:
MY DEAR MISS WATKINS:--
We are sitting in a row with ashes on the heads of our cigarettes
mourning, mourning, mourning, because we have had the news that
you are ill. As usual it is up to me to express our feelings, so I
have decided to mail them and the others agree to pay for the ink.
I wish to remark at once that we did not sleep any last night.
Jack told us at dinner, and we spent the evening making a
melancholy tour of places where we had been with you. If you had
only been with us! The roof gardens are particularly desolate
without you. The whole of the city seems to realize it. The
watering carts weep from dawn to dark. All the lamp-posts are
wearing black. It is sad at one extreme and sadder at the other.
You must brace up. If you can't do that try a belt. Life is too
short to spend in bed. My motto has always been "Spend freely
everywhere else." At present I recommend anything calculated to
mend you. I may in all modesty mention that just before Christmas
I shall be traveling north and shall then adore to stop and cheer
you up a bit if you invite me. I have made it an invariable rule,
however, not to stay over night anywhere when I am not invited, so
I hope you will consider my feelings and send me an invitation.
Pages:
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212