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My writing is so peculiar & scraggly because I can't control my right hand. I have been playing squash (a fearfully violent game played with rackets & tennis balls, in doors, against a wall) steadily for some time with Mr. Brooks - he plays a desperately hard game. It is infinitely more strenuous than tennis & one had gorgeous opportunities to kill one's friends, because one has to dodge about so in order to strike turn about. I have struck Mr. B. some

terrible cracks in the back & he gave me one right on my forehead. I am wild about the game. 
The doctor in command of this place is a quiet person who almost never looks you in the eye when he speaks to you. I hate that quality because I never feel that I can trust a person who doesn't look one in the eyes. And I know very well indeed, so well for comfort, that Dr. Sharp is not at all times to be trusted. He has lied to me & I know positively of other lies he