Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road
Sawston

My Dear Stewart,

You couldn't know. I didn't know for a moment. But this letter of
yours is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me
yet--more wonderful (I don't exaggerate) than the moment when
Agnes promised to marry me. I always knew you liked me, but I
never knew how much until this letter. Up to now I think we have
been too much like the strong heroes in books who feel so much
and say so little, and feel all the more for saying so little.
Now that's over and we shall never be that kind of an ass again.
We've hit--by accident--upon something permanent. You've written
to me, "I hate the woman who will be your wife," and I write
back, "Hate her. Can't I love you both?" She will never come
between us, Stewart (She wouldn't wish to, but that's by the
way), because our friendship has now passed beyond intervention.
No third person could break it. We couldn't ourselves, I fancy.
We may quarrel and argue till one of us dies, but the thing is
registered. I only wish, dear man, you could be happier. For me,
it's as if a light was suddenly held behind the world.

R.E.


Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road,
Sawston

Dear Mrs. Lewin,--