Florence. Good Friday. / and that damned / humbug Edward Goodbar / he, shut up his hypocritical / shop, so that I can't buy / any India rubber. d.l.m. I'm here with Mr. Morris / but all disconcerted at the wet so / that I don't a bit know what I / shall do - he goes back on Monday / longing for his native Iceland, & / I go on to I don't know where / to some little places near / if it changes & gets good / weather - if not I shall stay / here till it does, for I'm / not strong enough to play tricks / - yesterday & today with Stanhope / but not at work yet, nor / gentle rested after that journey. / You are right about Easter / not to go to Rome yet, for / you could work at nothing, but / when you go mind and live high / up in the town, & take the / ordinary precautions about / health for Summer will be here / by the time you get to work. / answer this as soon as you / get it and say when you / are coming to Florence, & / where to - the hotels are / crowded, so that you had / better make for one of the / minor ones like I have / I dreadfully want the sun / & warm days, and its very / unlucky for Mr. Morris - who / has only a week here & / everyday it has rained. / & been as cold as England / much to his joy, because for / all his life he can speak of / the bleak days he spent in / Italy - if the fine weather / sets in then I'm off on / Monday - if it still rains / you'll find me here - write / to Poste Restante for the next / month through because I / shall return to Florence / before going home. / Ever Your affect / E.B-J.