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So you are back already, and with your job done! I've no very thrilling account to
give of myself. I had a splendid three
weeks3 at Bread Loaf4—even a slight
attack of appendicitis didn't spoil it. Such kind, friendly people. They couldn't
have treated anybody better. But I did get awfully tired, so I came up here to stay
as a "paying guest" with friends who have a place on the sea, where I have a little
cottage to myself with a bed room and study with a wood fire,—quiet and solitude all
day and pleasant people, a few, to meet at dinner. I've been able to pull out a
long-short story5 which seemed to have died on my
hands, nothing very exciting, just enough to keep boredom away. I've walked a
lost lot on the fine wooded cliffs hanging over the
sea and am very much rested. I have to go back to town6 next week, Monday, to autograph Knopfs7
limited edition8, as he writes subscribers have begun to howl at not getting
their books. If he hasn't sent you one I'll see to it as soon as I get back.
I haven't seen the Atlantic9, or anything. Mail, Thank God, comes to this island only three times a week, and then it's a pleasant event. I hoped they'd send me a proof of your review10, but they haven't. I don't even know if it's been published yet, but I know it will give me pride and pleasure when I do see it. I've never before had a book come out with god-mothers and god-fathers like this one; it's delightful!
I may have to have my appendix out11 when I get back to New York. I'll have to go West to mother12 and father13 in October or November, whichever time they prefer. I'm so sorry to hear that Jim14 isn't well. I hope he and Stella15 will come to see me this winter. I'll probably sail for France16 the first of April. Where did Stella ever hear about Bread Loaf? I tried to do you credit there.
No, I think you've done all for Claude17 that one writer
can possibly do for another's book. It's up to him to find his way now.
I'm writing this off in the woods, sitting on high cliffs that hang over a summer sea. My love to you, dear, dear Dorothy. I'll never forget you gave me a lift when my courage was low and I'd spent my last ounce of energy.Lovingly Willa