Beloved Lady,
I don't know what in the world has happened to time. Though I've wanted to write to the dear Chicago folks, I have literally been unable to get to it.
Edith Abbott will probably have told you of the Washington conflict. I hope she told you what a rare demonstration Alice Hamilton made in logic, beauty, exquisite diction, and of becoming [hate?].
The book is before me, and I'll take it up to Saugatuck, where Grace Abbott is to spend a few days of rest. I hope to read it lying on the couch by the open wood fire.
I wonder if Mrs. Bowen ever got the flowers I ordered sent to her after my return from Europe. Don't bother her, if she did get them. I only ask because she is so punctilious about her letter writing that I question whether the order had been carried out. It went through the New York florist. I was so shocked when I returned and heard of her sad summer that I took that inadequate way of expressing sympathy.
Give my love to Mrs. Bowen and to Mary Smith, and if there is a chance of seeing any of you this winter, I will be happier.
Your devotedest,
P.S. Please tell Mrs. Kohn that I called her room several times to say goodbye. We had such a nice visit.
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