8 Holland Place Chambers,

W.

Sunday.

Dear Ezra,

Dryad has just gone to see K.H., taking books.
We will get the flowers to-morrow.

Fat Ford is back, and I am to be the mari
complaisant and let him have my wife as a secretary. I
regret it the less as he is now writing a passing
marvellous novel, which will kick em all in the guts,
Conrad included.

Brigit has a marvellous blue gown, and does
her hair differently.

I went to Monro's dinner to Marinetti and afterwards
took em to Yeats. You missed some hell by being away.
Yeats read his Helen and divers things in best Dublin
fashion, and Marinetti said it was tres beau, 'il déclame
bien, vous voyez.' And Marinetti recited the Motor-car
and yelled the siege of Adrianople, and Bill Butler bowed
his bleedin ead an said in Stately manner "Very impressive,
very interesting". Naturellement, considering that it
was 1 a.m. and that the place rocked and boiled in tourbillons
of noise.

You have seen the reviews of the Imagistes?
New Age first - malignant squelch. Herald next; working-man's
natural bewilderment at first being introduced to a
gentleman. Morning Post says we are a"new Via Lactea",
"this slim gracious volume" etcet. Thomas in New Weekly
says we are like a marble cume and that Flint is the ivy
about our base. Fat Ford in the Outlook says he feels
like a gargoyle in the midst of the Elgin Marbles and that
he will continue next week if Oliver will let him.

Who is to do it for the Egoist? You? Apropos,
Remy says we are "des poëtes assez curiex" and that he has
"gouté" us "avec plaisir". "En revanche" he sends me his
own poems.

Love to madame from us both,