Sharp, Rosamund (Bland), 1886-1960

"Dear H.G. It will seem an extraordinary thing for me to be writing to you asking you if you will put your name to one of the enclosed tomes, or to something you may write yourself of the same effect. I shouldn't be doing it unless I absolutely had to do something to earn a little money. I've tried for different jobs but nobody wants a woman of my age with no experience of anything except twenty years of married life and housework and indifferent health..."

"Dear Mrs Wells Of course you have an invitation to the [Nursery?] lectures. I wouldn't think of sending you a ticket. It never occurred to me to write to you because I thought you would understand that you were to come if you wanted to. I'm so sorry you aren't coming to our dance on the 20th..."

"Dear Mrs Wells, This is a bread-and-butter letter, written under exceedingly trying circumstances. I am staying with the Steeles and three of them are playing "Table-croquet," one is asking me questions, another is tuning the banjo, another is talking to the parrot. My head is in a whirl, and my pen is leaking. (They have begun to play the banjo in earnest now.) I believe what I set out to say was "Thank you very much" for everything in the past week..."