My darling Ruth,
Perhaps I can write you a decent ^sort of letter today. For the last two or three days I’ve been so down-hearted, cross, and altogether disagreeable I haven’t even been fit company for myself, but since I have those spells once in a while you might as well find it out before it’s too late. Of course it’s foolish and all that, but emotionally my reactions are on about the same level as those of a six-year old, for I’m hurt when no hurt was intended, I brood over things, I say things as a result which I don’t mean at all, and am a pretty unattractive person at such times. You have been so sweet to me that my heart aches at the memory, and yet I act like I do on account of one or two little things of which you were probably entirely unconscious. We can thrash is all out when you get home—letters are so unsatisfactory; however, if you don’t return pretty soon I’m likely to be in solitary confinement.
There has been no interest paid on the loans at all. I couldn’t see any virtue in borrowing money to pay it. Last year I talked to the Treasurer, Mr. Zumbalen ((research)), who said I could just let it go and he would do nothing about it. This Spring I talked to Dr. Clopton ((research)), who said it might just as well be let go, and who assured me that I need not worry about repaying the principle ^principal at the rate called for on the notes if it would interfere with my internship, since, as he put it, they wouldn’t loan me the money to go through school then force me to have the most important part of my training more or less ruined. So what is the use?
Just four more days until Friday and the exam. As usual, I sort of loafed along with the study for a while, and am making the drive more intense the nearer the time for the test approaches. The [illegible] finishing of my last examination is one of the ambitions of my life.
But the thing to which I look forward with the greatest eagerness is your return. Everything would be different if you weren’t away—that is probably what has caused most of my ill humor. No matter what I may do or say you can always be certain that,
I still love you dearly,
Harold