I’m going back there in a week or two, then East, I hope, to Ned’s wedding. ... The girl is all a girl should be, I believe. Smaller than he is, a tiny thing in fact, very gentle in voice and manner, sweet natured, musical, wholesome.
... I still dream of that place on the Shepaug river, in Connecticut, where you think I would be lonesome. A winter here with George and a summer there with you, would quite suit me. ... Well, write me, for books are not old friends after all, are they? Forever and ever yours,
F. K. L.
Writing of the days of their youth Pfeiffer said later, “Friendships are inexplicable, they defy analysis, but whatever it was that we might be doing, we were usually in harmony about it. I can only explain it by saying that we liked each other. We liked each other just as we were, and we knew each other with intimacy that deepened with the years, and never disappointed us. The magic circle came later to include others, and they were accepted and appreciated with the same affection and trust. ... It is a singular and beautiful thing that such a multiple and intimate relationship should have survived throughout all of our lives. Perhaps it was because we were friends without capitulation. ...
“Some of us did not meet again, after that first period, for years, but whenever we did meet, it was always in the spirit of the early days. A few words would tell us what we knew of the latest doings of the rest, and we would then ‘carry on’ just as if there had never been a break in our intercourse. The strength of our joint memories, based on our youthful experiences in common and added to from time to time, grew with the years.”
Pasadena, February 24, 
My dear doctor-and-more,—This is a note of cheer written by a somewhat dolorous duffer who spent last night in pain, but this morning is rather comfortable. ...