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I am delighted to find your name in a bushel of mail just arrived to meet me here. I do want to see you. If you are going to be in Bronxville3 this winter it will be easy, for I shall be in New York4 for at least part of the winter. I have at last got my things out of storage and have crept into a very quiet little apartment at 570 Park avenue5 and nobody knows where I am. For the last four years I have been in Pasadena6 with my mother7 who was ill there, and I made only short business trips to New York. After her death I spent a winter among my old friends in Nebraska8. I have always known where you were in the world, and have many kind words to thank you for. We have always managed to hang together, though there are a good many people who would like to see us claw each other. Moreover, we bear a common reproach: the gentlemen who know how books should be written are always cursing you because you do not write like a woman, and me because I do not write like a man. I think we have a ⬩W⬩S⬩C⬩ great deal to talk over.
I shall be here only a few days before I got up into the Gasp
eé9 country, but I expect to be in New York
in November, and then if you will bring Mrs.
Lewis10 to see me, we will try to find out what is happening to this