T. E. Lawrence to

14.1.24.

My Lord,

I couldn't write to you yesterday, though I tried to: and tonight's is only an apology for being still stupid.

Your letter of your efforts with the P.M... but really you should not. If I won't do that sort of thing for myself, other people should not do it for me. It's awfully good of you... but awfully bad for me. Please let up on it all. The army is more or less what I ought to have, and in time I'll get to feel at home in it. And please tell Mrs. Shaw that if ever I write anything new (I try hard not to) I'll send her a copy direct. This will save her wasting money on owls or Doughty's in the future.

A Yank firm (Bone & Liverpool, or something) have pirated my Arabia Deserta preface, and are cheerful that the book is selling well in the States. It's nice to feel good enough to be stolen. May Ramsay MacDonald soon succeed Baldwin....

Yours sincerely

T.E.S.