I daren't read them over, but they'll give you an idea of my state of mind during those last dreadful weeks in London.
My nerves are now in a little better condition.

Since I came here, I've set myself resolutely NOT to think of Will--that is, not more than I can help; there are times when his ghost is extremely active.

I'm putting out brain-feelers, for I know that I should go to pieces altogether if I didn't throw myself into some new interest.

So that I'm trying a system for the development of one's higher faculties that was taught me by a queer old German professor I met at Caux last summer, who was interested in the odd little second-sight experiences I've had occasionally which I told him about.

He made me do exercises in deep-breathing and meditation--you shut yourself up, darken your room and concentrate upon a subject--Beauty, Wisdom, Friendship, were some of the subjects he gave me--and you can't think how thrillingly absorbing it was.