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Yesterday Isabelle3 and I were walking in a
park full of grandmothers and children and she, paying attention to the children,
turned her ankle and fell forward and cut a deep gash in her knee on a stone. It
bled a good deal. We took a taxi home, where I washed it with iodine and bound it
up, but I found the flesh was badly torn, and as soon as
Jan4 came home I sent him for a doctor. He
said she must stay in bed for several days, as a tear is
worse than a cut and may suppurate. Isabelle had a very serious illness in the
winter and will have to be an invalid for a long while. It is very sad for me that
the two people I love best in the world get
sick5 thousands of miles apart, and I such a poor traveller! I have seen very little of the gay side of Paris as yet, we have been
here only a week today, and for the first three days Edith6 was sick and had to stay in bed, and 3now Isabelle is laid low with this cut on her knee, and for
part of the time I have had a rather queer "tummy" from strange water and worry and
being tired. Tell Doctor Smith7 for me that
living-conditions are much pleasanter at Las
Encinas8 than in any Paris hotel I have yet found—even the food there is
more to my taste, though French food is always good. In spite of every-one's being
below par physically, I have made two trips over to the
the queer old part9 of Paris where part of my new story10 lies, and have been well rewarded. That
part of the city has changed very little, many of the same houses were there when
my
story-people lived there two hundred and fifty years ago. I went to church in at the church11 they always attended. Many, many things are still the same.
Now I am going over to see Isabelle and be there when the Doctor comes to dress her knee—we will talk of you as we always do. She always wants to hear every little thing about you and the place you are in.
Lovingly Willa