This is just a word to tell you that you must answer rather quickly, or
I might not keep my promise. Last night I was frightened; I had a
hideous evening. Alec was here--the man I'm to marry if nothing saves
me--and it was bad. He won't release me, and I won't break my word
unless he does. And after he was gone I went through a queer time; I
think a novel would call it an obsession. Almost without my will,
almost as if I were another person, I tried to get the pistol. And
your letter guarded it. My first personality _couldn't_ lift your
letter off to get the pistol. Did you hypnotize me? It's like the
queer things one reads in psychological books. I _couldn't_ get past
that letter. Of course, I'm in some strained, abnormal condition, and
that's all, but send me another letter, for if one is a barricade two
should be a fortress. And I nearly broke down the barricade; Number
Two did, that is.
Is it hot in Warchester? It is so heavenly here this morning that I
wish I could send you a slice of it--coolness and birds singing and
trees rustling. I think of you going up and down tenement stairs in
the heat--and I know you hate heat--I took that in. This house stands
in big grounds and the lake, seventy-five miles long, you know, roars
up on the beach below it. I wish I could send you a slice. Write me,
please--and you so busy! I am a selfish person.