It seems I hope rather dreadful to you that I have been so long in writing for indeed it seems so to myself, but I often as it were do drop you a line in my thoughts.... Do you know that this day a year ago Michael was alive and as well as any of us and that next day he was dead. That is really why I am writing to you today. I feel that he is at Oxford today in his rooms and that tomorrow he is going out to be drowned, and doesn't know it. I spoke about courage as you know at St Andrews, but it does seem to me often as if there was something rather monstrous in my still being here. Peter is coming tomorrow to stay the night and will be everything that is kind.
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