I am so happy, sweetest girl! Today I took a studio so I can at last do some work of my own. I know you told me to follow my instructors and I have, darling, I swear it! But there is more I could do and I am sure I am ready now.
There is a woman here from Ohio—Elizabeth Nourse. She has been in Paris for many years and is an accomplished artist. She has seen my work and says she believes I might do better to leave the academie altogether and find a dealer.
Eleanor insists I stay at the academie until the year is out, but in the meantime I have engaged a model and will begin tomorrow working on a picture that has been in my mind for some years.
I wish you were here darling. I want to paint you. I want to paint you sitting before El’s little fire in the parlor, with the grey winter fog on the garden doors behind you. It’s cold, but beautiful. In the spring, I’d paint you sitting on the little marble bench under one of the wall fountains where the wisteria hangs down. And then I’d take you upstairs, darling, and make love to you and paint you sleeping afterwards with a splash of sunlight across your body.
Tell me you haven’t forgotten your boy. I miss you every moment. In my dreams, I never stop kissing you. Tell me when you have booked your passage to Paris. It is an age until summer.
Your own devoted,