Virginia: What do you think is probably the happiest moment in one’s whole life? I think its the moment when one is walking in ones garden, perhaps picking off a few dead flowers and suddenly one thinks: My husband lives in that house—And he loves me. The immense success of my life with Leonard, is I think, that our treasure is hid away; or rather in such common things that nothing can touch it. That is, if one enjoys a bus ride to Richmond, sitting on the green smoking, airing the marmots, sitting down after dinner, side by side. Well, what can trouble this happiness?

 

 

 

 

Virginia: Orlando will be a little book, with a map or two. I make it up in bed at night, as I walk the streets, everywhere. I want to see you in the lamplight, in your emeralds. In fact, I have never more wanted to see you than I do now—just to sit and look at you, and get you to talk, and then rapidly and secretly correct certain doubtful points. About your teeth now and your temper. Is it true you grind your teeth at night? What and when was your moment of greatest disillusionment?

 

 

 

 

 

Virginia: A mistress of the brush—you are now undoubtably that; but still I think the problems of design on a large scale slightly baffle you. Your genius as a painter, though rather greater than I like, does still shed a ray on mine. I mean, people will say, “What a gifted couple!” Well: it would have been nicer had they said: “Virginia had all the gifts; dear old Nessa was a domestic character.”—Alas, alas, theyll never say that now. As you have the children, the fame by rights should belong to me.