BRACERS Record Detail for 17358
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"Wed. evg." "Went to call on my German [Wittgenstein], which I had never done before. (It was he who got your tickets yesterday.) I am getting to like him; he is literary, very unusually pleasant-mannered (being an Austrian) and I think really intelligent."
BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [29 NOV. 1911]
BRACERS 17358. ALS. Morrell papers #271, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.
My Dearest Love
I caught my train, with even less margin than usual. I found an interesting letter from my Aunt Agatha (enclosed, but please return, as I haven’t answered it yet). “Sinclair” is the former housekeeper at Pembroke Lodge, a nice old Scotch woman. It is a funny thing that in spite of Alys’s kindness servants usually hate her. The reason is that when she is vexed she becomes unpardonable, and undoes the effect of months of kindness.
I ordered Rosalind Murray’s novel, arranged about my ticket for Saturday, and went to call on my German, which I had never done before. (It was he who got your tickets yesterday.) I am getting to like him; he is literary, very musical, pleasant-mannered (being an Austrian), and I think really intelligent. — In a few minutes I must go up to Hill, who has a Hungarian to entertain.
Darling these have been wonderful days. I don’t want you to think that I should like you to be in any way different — I don’t value the kind of satisfaction that means stagnation. You give me what I value and what I need more completely than I thought any human being could, and much more than if there were not the differences there are between us. Darling you mustn’t let me grow selfish about you — I feel I was near to being selfish about Miss Cox. And altogether if you find I take up more of your time than you ought to give me don’t be afraid I shall be vexed. Darling these days have added something — I feel we get nearer and nearer to each other through everything — I do rest in you so fully. Goodnight my Heart — this must go. I love you my Dearest, and every day my power of love grows through your infiniteness.
Your
B.
