But think if I were to look a horror for a whole six weeks! she says. There we sit in Clive's smoky room, with the brandy and the tumblers, and Mary wears a black patch on her left cheek and a golden turban. And am I a bright bead, or a dull bead, in the plate? Or dont I exist? We're still talking, you'll be surprised to hear, about love and sodomy and Bunny's last book, Vita and Eddy, and Desmond's fund, shall it be for his debts or his holiday?-with Lytton, Clive, Morgan, Raymond, Mary etc. I assure you I'm conscious of you all day long, soaring above my head. You see us, and you think we dont see you. You are sitting by the Kasran (I dont know what the name is) Gate, and seeing us all as little bright beads in a plate miles beneath. At a conclave here the other night it was universally agreed that he was a loss to the world as it is: much too good for that everyone said: but then he's ambitious, some one said. I want to know, particularly, among a crowd of other things, have you talked to Harold about giving up silk stockings and swords and gold lace and humbug and nonsense and becoming a sensible man? If so, what has he said? Now you will have got over your torrent of talk, and might have a little serious conversation. Last time I wrote in such a tearing hurry I was ashamed to send it, so now I'm beginning early: but there'll be endless interruptions.

You'll like to think of me unhappy I know. Its not a very intimate message, but it gives me a little thrill of pleasure, and I make you say instead Good morning Virginia. 1927 Sweet Honey, Nelly has just brought into the Studio where I'm correcting proofs of the Lighthouse your cable 'Agree about Doran'.

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