 Your letters are so dear and kind – but so empty and bare – I feel myself through them that I have less to say to you than any other person.Rain – fine weather – things that have happened – that is all I ever have to tell you about – so utterly cut off is my "real self", my innermost life, from yours...I have tried again and again to talk to you about more serious things, when I felt the need to do so – but we never meet each other – we have developed separately...and that is why I feel true companionship is an impossibility for us – because our thoughts will never meet...I love you too so very much, my darling husband, and that is why it is so sad to feel that our life is nevertheless so incomplete...But you are never intentionally to blame for this – I "never" think that, "never"...The following day, Alice wrote a much shorter letter to Louis in which she looked forward to their meeting, and hoped that "my letter did not distress you – but it is better to be quite honest about all one's feelings".