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25 December 1925
81 Harley Street, London
Dear Professor,
What is to be said about today's frightful news ? You know that I share your feelings to the full. It seems as if very little is to be spared you in the way of suffering—and I too know what suffering means. There is no way of meeting this blow: it cannot be dealt with, for nothing can ever cure it—not even time. Karl was my best friend, and his wife one of my wife's best friends. We all understood each other completely. The loss is quite irreplaceable, both personally and to the movement. Nothing could have better illustrated the senselessness and meaninglessness of the universe, its awful blindness. And yet I am equally oppressed with the appearance the whole course of events gives of diabolical deliberate aim—from the trivial start to the terrible end, the selection of the best and most valuable man we know, even the choice of Christmas day, the rejoicings of which will increase his wife's poignancy to the end of her life.
To you, dear Professor, I have only two things to say; to tell you again how completely I share your affliction, and to assure you that nothing shall ever make me swerve from following, however imperfectly, the ideals for which Abraham worked and fought so clearly. You can count on me, now as ever.
Presuming that the funeral will be on Monday or Tuesday I wired to Sachs and Mrs. Abraham that I will arrive on Sunday evening. I asked him to let me know if it was on Sunday, in which case I should leave tonight,