You are to write as often as you can at first—see? Because letters take so long, so long, et je suis malade. I have just got up and am sitting wrapped up in all my clothes and my woolly coat and your geranium jacket and the Kashmir shawl over that and Ottoline's pink one round my legs and the rug folded on the floor. The fire is alight, but it won't burn unless I keep the iron shade right down!! The old, old story. It is bitterly cold, and a deep strange fiery light over the sea and sky. I have got up because I must work and I can't in bed. If I am going to languish in Foreign Parts alone, I must have a great deal of work done, or it will be no use. Please write me warm letters—tellment il fait froid….