Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft/Volume 3/Letter 7
LETTER VII.
Sunday Morning [December 29.]
You seem to have taken up your abode at H———. Pray sir! when do you think of coming home? or, to write very considerately, when will business permit you? I shall expect (as the country people say in England) that you will make a power of money to indemnify me for your absence.
——————— ——————— ——————— ——————— ——————— ———————
———————Well! but, my love, to the old story—am I to see you this week, or this month?—I do not know what you are about—for, as you did not tell me, I would not ask Mr. ———, who is generally pretty communicative.
I long to see Mrs. ———; not to hear from you, so do not give yourself airs, but to get a letter from Mr. ———. And I am half angry with you for not informing me whether she had brought one with her or not.—On this score I will cork up some of the kind things that were ready to drop from my pen, which has never been dipt in gall when addressing you; or, will only suffer an exclamation—"The creature!" or a kind look, to escape me, when I pass the slippers—which I could not remove from my salle door, though they are not the handsomest of their kind.
Be not too anxious to get money!—for nothing worth having is to be purchased. God bless you.
Yours affectionately
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