The rumors hang over us like a
black cloud. In spite of my efforts to cheer him up, he’s often
inconsolable. Sometimes it seems I have no one but you to lighten
my burden. Aunt Bessie, I feel ashamed to admit I feel suffocated
by his constant attention, like a child, he continues to bemoan his
lack of usefulness. Yet, how can I change that which I caused? He
uses me to escape his prison, only to incarcerate me in my own. The
US press has practically ruined two people’s lives, however, they
go on, hounding away. It does get one’s moral down. But I’m so
tired of it all. Even my heart has been acting up, and I’ve been
put to bed for a week’s complete rest. No calls, no callers.
Everything everywhere seems to get worse and worse, and you can’t
help but be depressed by it all. We have nothing but a series of
unpleasant business. I cried myself to sleep last night, no talks
to a boy, and today, all the lines are down in Cannes. I really
can’t continue to c
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arry on.