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them back. It must be so much fun.
And again, from another letter:
You might pass up your next examination and write me
a letter. They just sent me some phonograph records in case
I should forget my lesson and I broke them all so the nurse
won’t speak to me. They were in English, so that the nurses
would not understand. One doctor in Chicago said I was
bluffing, but what he really meant was that I was a twin six
and he had never seen one before. But I was very busy be-
ing mad then, so I didn’t care what he said, when I am very
busy being mad I don’t usually care what they say, not if I
were a million girls.
You told me that night you’d teach me to play. Well, I
think love is all
(2)
there is or should be. Anyhow I am glad your interest in
examinations keeps you busy.
Tout à vous,
NICOLE WARREN.
There were other letters among whose helpless cæsuras
lurked darker rhythms.
DEAR CAPTAIN DIVER:
I write to you because there is no one else to whom I can
turn and it seems to me if this farcicle situation is apparent
to one as sick as me it should be apparent to you. The mental
trouble is all over and besides that I am completely broken
and humiliated, if that was what they wanted. My family
have shamefully neglected me, there’s no use asking them
for help or pity. I have had enough and it is simply ruining

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