"But L.P., why have you gone and lost your voice? Have you been ill, or is it just a relaxed throat? Not laryngitis, I hope? I'm so sorry for you..."

"Here is the contract- with many thanks [...] Still no cook. How I loathe domesticity..."

"Suddenly remembered that you asked me for a photograph and biographical details. You have a recent photograph of me- a small one, which I sent you and Heinamann last year..."

"Rather a teaser. I do know more or less what the new book is about, but I haven't given it a title, and the fear, being still fluid, is liable to change..."

"This is- as near as I can make it- between 5000 and 5500 words long. It is meerly a title- or, as the title says, An Incident, but typical..."

"Yes, yes, of course I approve- only don't let us get rounded into any sort of mass, for the love of Mike..."

"A line to let you know that I've had a perfectly satisfactory letter from B.F. Oliver about the condition of the plates of my [?]books. He has promised to inspect them, and says that he expects they are worn..."

"I am sending you one set of proofs tomorrow, for Australian Woman's Weekly. I'll send you the others in a day or two, but I don't think I want you to let Doubleday have them..."

"I suppose you've seen that both the Sunday papers have [?] An Infamous Army. It may be my fault for having failed, but nothing will ever convince me that I should have [?] another- any other- publisher..."

"I am sending you this letter that you may forward it- or any part of it- to the firm of Heinemann Ltd. You know, for I have told you so, that I feel extremely uneasy about my fate at the firm's hands..."