Darling,
And again today it rained here—while rain fell in my heart as well, for the postman failed to bring the letter which alone could start my day with sunshine. What are you doing now? Any horse-backing yet? The things from Montgomery Ward’s must have come by this time so that you can live in, at least comparatively, luxury. Do you still stay sleepy as you did?
Bob Stephens and I are going to see “Showboat” this evening. Hope we don’t get rained out—like we did once.
By the way, Miss Case and her sister now have a ’31 La Salle convertible coupe to tear around the country in—a gift from their mother. I haven’t seen the charming secretary for the last two days; i.e. since she got the car. I just happen to remember that Dr. Muckenfuss married the former Dr. Brebner’s widow.
So you are exercising to get strong so you can struggle against me more effectively next Sept.—and I had hoped that you wouldn’t even want to struggle. Oh darling, I do love you so much, and I look forward so to the time when I shall see you again. I’ve never spent a summer which seemed so long and so empty as this one does. But I shouldn’t feel that way either, for I have a glorious thing this summer which I have never had before—the knowledge that you love me. Yet it does take an interminable time for the days to pass, you haven’t been gone two weeks until tomorrow—and I’m sure no two years were ever longer.
There isn’t anything else to say, excepting to repeat that I love you, and perhaps you tire of so much repetition. Goodnight, dear heart, and please listen while I say once more,
I love you, love you, love you,
Harold