Hotel de la Haute Loire.
Sunday afternoon in Bloomsbury, buses carrying bourgeois to le Bois, Salvation Army Band marching by. A. waiting for me over a Bock at the Dôme _ & me up here in this queer little room feeling at home to the core of me. Aow. Mustn’t dwell on it. Atavism. And a hat – 1st I’ve had since one that hid discreetly in a box under my bed, somehow uniting its freshness to the bright clang of St Pancras bells. And a gown, oh Lord, I once possessed a truly stunning djibbeh, but a gown I’ve never had. A. made me put them
on late last night, they weren’t ready when I called & were sent later, when we came home from sitting with the Bunch in the Dôme (Nina turned up & I had the joy of seeing her & Alan sitting at a little table together hanging over the past). He wants me to go arrayed in these glories from morning till night. They are real nice. Thats a clever little shop. Those women came round me when I called & held my hands & again smacked me. Article – for V. Fair on the difference between buying a hat – Peter Robinson – & acquiring a chapeau.
Of course you are
not forgiven. Never has anybody dared – never – I splutter – you are monstrous. I’m damned if I ever – – – Alan has just come in. He was near weeping when he found you had evaporated on Friday. Couldn’t take it in. Seems to have thought he’d see you several more times before you left. It was very nice at the Dingo – but somehow a little bleak. There was a gap.
I suppose I must give in about our beastly luggage & indeed there is no denying that it would be the greatest blessing to find it gone when we arrive. I’m so chewed up now that I can only crawl. Frightful rapidity of
impressions. Frightful moral cost of this beloved Paris. Here’s the billet. My plan was to put the basket in a taxi, take [its] number & send it to
14. Queen’s Terrace.
(near Eyre Arms.)
with a slip, please pay bearer –
But there’s the douane. What if they want it opened. I can’t let you in for all that. If they do it must wait, if need be till we come from Cornwall.
We look in as soon as I’m tidy, with M. L. at the Vails – for
an hour, & tomorrow look in at the Hemingways for coffee – & I have Marc Allegret’s address & we’ll try & get him to tea one day – & probably cross on Thursday. I’ll let you know.
Au revoir, little thing,
Thats an amazingly illuminating thing by Carlos Williams in the Transatlantic, its dangerous, too, I think. We found, smelt our way to the Louvre yesterday.
Greet Hilda & R. & Mrs Doolittle.