No letters at all, as, owing to the submarines, we are dodging the mails across somewhere else, I expect. The great difficulty is to catch your submarine, though you may see him often enough. The craze for going boating in these vessels will shortly die out amongst the Germans, I fancy, when they find out the number of boats that do not come home! At present they are looking out for one or two which I understand will not reappear, and thus they have to keep ships cruising about in search of them with petrol and food. Of course these are neutral ships; but it adds to our chance of finding out where and how these knaves draw their supplies! I have heard that it is from Ireland; but I expect the Government knows more than it lets out. Yesterday the Germans shelled us for an hour and a half; they just missed us, and killed a poor civilian behind the houses instead. They have increased our leave by one day now; still, whether they will grant mine a second time is uncertain, but I continue to hope. The awkward part is that they never let me know in time to write and tell you. Supposing it is granted, I may arrive on the night of February 25th; but if I do get across I must do a little shopping in London first, and fit myself out with some things I badly want: then I shall come on to you as soon as possible. It is rather a bore that the war will not stop, and I am annoyed that I have been kept out in India and away from you for over two years! The weather is improving here and getting more springlike. What are the Germans going to do now?... _February 21st, 1915._