Page:Posthumous Works of Mary Wollstonecraft Vol3.djvu/206

190 compose my tortured soul, before I write on indifferent subjects. —  —

I do not know whether I write intelligibly, for my head is disturbed.—But this you ought to pardon—for it is with difficulty frequently that I make out what you mean to say—You write, I suppose, at Mr. 's after dinner, when your head is not the clearest—and as for your heart, if you have one, I see nothing like the dictates of affection, unless a glimpse when you mention, the child.—Adieu! LETTER