LXXXIII
Verena Raby to Richard Haven
Dear Richard,—The Peace Celebrations here, they tell me, were very quiet. I am glad that they are over at last and we can now all begin....
Your long letter about the benefactions has given me plenty to think about for some days. I had not thought of the distribution of money as being so full of amusing possibilities: almost too full. I should like to do something of the kind, but to confine it to my own neighbourhood. But then one’s name would be certain to leak out, and it is so dreadful to be thanked.
Meanwhile, I wonder what you will think of this idea. You remember Blanche Povey who used to live at Pangbourne? She married a doctor, a very nice man, Dr. Else, and they live at Malvern. Malvern is of course a happy hunting ground for medical men, because invalids go there, mostly rich ones, and Dr. Else would be doing very well, only for an infirmity. The usual one—he drinks. Blanche tells me that he is getting worse, and she sees nothing but disaster, and every time he goes to a patient she fears he may have over-stepped the mark and be found out. It seems to me that if a man in his position, a really nice man, could be promised anonymously a good sum of money on the condition that he did not touch alcohol for a year, much good might be done. How does it strike you? Or am I becoming that hateful thing, a busy-body? With the best intentions, no doubt, but a busy-body none the less.—Yours,
V.