Scope and Contents "Dear H.G. Clifford came home the other night and thrust a page of "The Tatler" under my nose, saying "There's H.G. for you!" And it really was! You cannot imagine how glad I was to see him again. Orpen is awfully clever. He has put down all that is essentially you, and nobody ever did that before. They put the unessential and obvious. But this is the real H.G., the H.G. who writes unforgettable, and darling things, the H.G. one loves, and always love, and couldn't misunderstand. This was...

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"Dear HG I shall welcome any work you can send me and the sooner I can do it the better. I'm sorry about the manuscript. It would have taken more than an hour to read and I wouldn't have suggested it if I hadn't thought there was a good chance of you rather liking it..."

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"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..."

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"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..."

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"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..."