[Enclosure]
Dear Miss Power,—I promised I would let you know when I was returning to England. Well, I am due next week, for the hospital is closing. I suppose you don’t know of a nice snug little practice in a good sporting neighbourhood with several wealthy malades imaginaires of both sexes dotted conveniently about? That’s what I want, a kind of sinecure. Forgive the low ambition. Indeed I am punished already for indulging it, for see how double-edged the word “sinecure” is, and what a sarcasm on my profession!
Having had one or two letters to you returned as “gone away” I have sent this to your home address to be forwarded. I hope you did not think that I should let you go, having once found you! The skies are not so lavish with their blessings as that! No, begob! I shall be very unhappy until an answer comes to this.—Yours sincerely,
Bryan Field