To Scott, May 1919
‘[…] You are the only person on earth, Lover, who has ever known and loved all of me – Men love me ’cause I’m pretty – and they’re always afraid of mental wickedness – and men love me ’cause I’m clever, and they’re always afraid of my prettiness – One or two have even loved me ’cause I’m lovable, and then of course I was acting – But you just do, darling – and I do – very very very much […].
[…] Maybe I’m getting tired – I can’t think of anything but nights with you. I want them warm and silvery – when we can be together all our lives – which will probably be long, as I’ve recovered from the cough, much to my disgust. I don’t want you to see me growing old and ugly – I know you’ll be a beautiful old man – romantic and dreamy – and I’ll probably be most prosaic and wrinkled – we will just have to die when we’re 30 […].’