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be real lovers, don’t leave me altogether. Let us see each other sometimes. It doesn’t matter even if the Gorgon is there and we have to talk the silly meaningless tea-party talk. Our real selves will be saying the real things to one another all the time, and we can look at one another and be a little bit happy. I can feel with my eyes, can’t you, darling? When you met us yesterday and stood there with that absurd top-hat in your hand⁠—it was so funny to see you in that stiff, formal morning dress, but you looked very splendid and it made me so proud to think you were really all mine and no one knew it⁠—well, when I saw you, I could feel in all my fingers, darling, the queer lovely feel of your hair that first day⁠—do you remember⁠—when you put your head on my knees and broke down and said you loved me. Such a dear head, darling, all rough and crisp, and the strong, splendid bones under it, full of wonderful thoughts. If I shut my eyes I can feel it⁠—I’m doing it now, darling. Shut yours⁠—now, this minute⁠—and see if you can’t feel my hands. Did you, Petra darling⁠—did you feel all the love and life in them? Tell me when you write if you can feel me as I feel you!