Above all now that Marina is here, for you never can tell -- -- --.
But I know what I'll do; I'll copy the letter here, even if it takes 2
or 3 days. She writes:
Darling Rita, what did you say when you got yesterday's postcard. If you
were angry, you must make it up with me. Consort with whom you please
and write to whom you please; but all the _consequences_ be on your
own head. Father always says: Beware of red hair! And I insist that the
"innocent child" has _foxy red_ hair. But you can think what you like.
Now I've got something much more important to tell you. But you must
promise me dirst that you will tear up my letter directly you have read
it. Otherwise please send it back to me _un_read.
Just fancy. Here in B. there is a young married woman living with her
mother and her cousin, a girl who is studying medicine; they are Poles
and I have always had an enthusiastic admiration for the Poles. The
young wife has got a divorce from her husband, for she was _infected_ by
him on the _wedding night_. Of course you remember what being _infected_
is. But really it is something quite different from what we imagined.
Because of _that_ she got a frightful eruption all over her body and her
face, and most likely all her hair will fall out; is it not frightful?
Her cousin, the medical student, who is apparently very poor, is there
to _nurse_ her.
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