taken up my pen for only two purposes
since I left London--to write my weekly letter to my guardian--and
to thank you over and over again. Only now you have quite spoiled
Mrs. Talcott and me for our stewed dried fruit that we used to
think so nice before we lived on grapes and nectarines. Indeed I
have not forgotten the primroses and I shall be so delighted to
pick them for you when the time comes, though I suspect it is sheer
kindness in you that gives me the pleasure of sending you
something. Your nice letter interested me very much. Yes, we have
'Dominique' in the library here, and I will perhaps soon read it; I
say perhaps, because I am reading 'Wilhelm Meister'--my guardian
was quite horrified with me when she found I had never read it--and
must finish that first, and it is very long. Is 'Dominique' indeed
your favourite French novel? My guardian places Stendahl and
Flaubert first. For myself I do not care much for French novels. I
like the Russians best.--Sincerely yours,

"Karen Woodruff."

* * * * *

"Les Solitudes,
"April 2nd.

"Dear Mr. Jardine,--You make a charming picture of the primroses in
the blue and white bowls for me. And of your view over the park.
London can be so beautiful; I, too, care for it very much. It is
beautiful here now; the hedges all white with blackthorn and the
woods full of primroses. My guardian must now be in San Francisco!
She is back in New York in May, and is to give three more great
concerts there. I am impatiently waiting for my next letter from
her. I am so glad you like the primroses. Many, many thanks for the
fruit.--Yours sincerely,

"Karen Woodruff."

* * * * *

"Les Solitudes,
"April 5th.

"Dear Mr. Jardine,--What you say makes me feel quite troubled. I
know you write playfully, yet sometimes one can _dire la verite en
riant_, and it is as if you had found my letters very empty and
unresponsive. I did not mean them to be that of course; but I am
not at all in the habit of writing letters except to people I am
very intimate with. Indeed, I am in the habit only of writing to my
guardian, and it is difficult for me to think that other people
will be interested in the things I am doing. And in one way I do so
li