To his sister Margaret Capell
June 18 (1914)
31 Oakley St, N.W.
My dearest old Marge-:
Just a week since you left these lonely islands! You can't imagine how we have been dying to catch a glimpse of you in that Llanstephan Hotel. We must possess our souls in patience. I suppose there will be some sort of word of you in a day or two. After the L. Cast. vanished into the Solent (we saw the last of her) Mother had a little weep & we went off to explore South'pton. Isa: Mary & I came back to London (Russian ballet), – Mother & Father coming on next day. Mother has gone home tonight. I just missed saying goodbye to her by the 7 o'cl. What another world all these doings will seem to thee! Since then, Mary and the Balls have been with me at the Ballet (a box!) ... What oo & don't you know? ...
Frank is getting better so fast that ultimate recovery is assured of (speech etc.). At the moment it all remains frightfully trying for Isa:, especially visits. He can't talk, poor dear, & is painfully conscious of his deficiencies. He has been in the park (Bridgwater's motor) & enjoys it. Visitors excite him too much, but he has crowds now. Isa tonight was very done up, - but in a week or so they will be off & away from minor importunities. If you see him, the first thing that strikes you is, after all, that he is himself – and remembering five weeks ago! ...
Meanwhile you can guess my life. – The three Olympian doctors went to the ballet with me on Tuesday, (Williams, Pearson & Brown)! ... A successful party. – Another night Ashmead, Bartlett & the Capel Cures. First nights galore ... But this is all padding. The interesting thing is that when you get this you will be Mrs Layzell – at least, I suppose so, – Mary says so, – tho' I think it queer you shouldn't stop to open your letters first ... Good luck ... The more the days go on the more I wish I had a holiday – & had gone with you ... But I sh[oul]d have wanted more books than you, poor child, seemed to have. As it is, my life is impossibly full. I felt so burdened with ennui that I went to Southsea last Sunday for sea air – then had to sit in a shelter all the time because of a tropical thunderstorm (tropical, – ahem!). Farewell, my child. This is futile scribble. But all the time one wants to ask questions, – which would be futiler still.
Greetings to the bridegroom. Richard
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