THE MATH, BELUR,
DEAR JOE, (Miss Josephine MacLeod.)
I can’t even in imagination pay the immense debt of gratitude I owe you. Wherever you are you never forget my welfare; and, there, you are the only one that bears all my burdens, all my brutal outbursts.
Your Japanese friend has been very kind, but my health is so poor that I am rather afraid I have not much time to spare for Japan. I will drag myself through the Bombay Presidency even if only to say, “How do you do?” to all kind friends.
Then two months will be consumed in coming and going, and only one month to stay; that is not much of a chance for work, is it?
So kindly pay the money your Japanese friend has sent for my passage. I shall give it back to you when you come to India in November.
I have had a terrible collapse in Assam from which I am slowly recovering. The Bombay people have waited and waited till they are sick — must see them this time.
If in spite of all this you wish me to come, I shall start the minute you write.
I had a letter from Mrs. Leggett from London asking whether the £300 have reached me safe. They have, and I had written a week or so before to her the acknowledgment, C/o Monroe & Co., Paris, as per her previous instructions.
Her last letter came to me with the envelope ripped up in a most barefaced manner! The post offices in India don’t even try to do the opening of my mail decently.
Ever yours with love,