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January 8th. 96. 5 P.M. New York city In my room
My Dearest Love,
I have been calling myself an idiot for the last half hour for not being able to keep from writing to you today--but I can't. I'm getting blue, Sweetheart, and I must rush to you when I feel that way. I slept this morning until about half past eight then took a cold bath and dressed; my trunks came before I was done but managed to scramble into my clothes. It took the morning to unpack my trunks and settle myself, after which I sallied out to discover New York. I invested in some rye bread and butter and some coffee so that I can have my breakfasts in my own room and eat only what is good for me. I have my table all spread out with my tea set and dainty things and the whole room looks homelike. 8:30 P.M. Have just been over to take dinner at the boarding house and then have had a great talk with Mrs Russell. Interviewed Madame
Cappiani this afternoon and arranged to take my first lesson on Friday morning She is lovely - quite as I had pictured her an essentially foreign woman with the grand air and an impressive personality. I believe we are going to get on famously.
We split on one rock, however, she was quite annoyed that I persistently [record?] all ideas of the stage; She says I do not look at things from the right stand point. But never fear, darling, I am proof against all coaxings and pleadings when you stand and beckon in the other direction
New York is lovely -- nothing compares
Say Darling, do you know that picture of yours is terribly unsatisfactory. It is a picture of an old school friend of mine, not of my lover; I want one of you now, since you have loved me, with your curly hair, and the love light in your eyes looking straight forward at me. Well, sweet heart, I must say good-night now.
With all my love --
That is what Madame persists in calling me.