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Bear with me, dear. You don't know what you are to me, I am bewildered with the mystery.

About the book on Staffordshire Pottery. Don't give it another thought. I can arrange everything here without any trouble. You need not write. But if you do, and suggest, as you say, that I shall come down and discuss the matter with you, why then, then—will you write? I want to come. I promise not to cut myself shaving this time. Although is it not natural my hand should have been unsteady? It shakes now. I must come and discuss the pottery book or anything. Let me. It is much to ask, but I won't be in your way. I've some manuscripts to go through. I'll never leave the hotel. But I want to be in the same place.

For ever and ever,
Your Gabriel.