Sweetheart,
Today I took a sort of vacation, went downtown to do a little shopping, then saw Mae West’s latest, “Belle of the Nineties,” ((cite)) which is a sort of mediocre thing, not good enough to be good, and with most of the original rather clever lines censored I would guess.Just ten more days before I’ll be able to hold you in my arms again. Just, did I say? Rather I should have said it will be ten long days, for they can neither can, nor will, pass half fast enough. That is certainly what has been the trouble with me this summer, it hasn’t passed quickly enough. Usually it is gone all too soon, but circumstances seem to modify time a lot. Most assuredly you will not willingly be allowed to ever run off this way again.
Fall weather must have set in there with a right good will if the weather here is any indication. Everyone says this is the coolest September in a long time, and we had the usual quota of rain for the month in the first two weeks. Your return trip should be a pleasant one.
This next week I must get the decks cleared for action, all my study for the re-exams must be done, a few acetyl values determined, and various odds and ends tended to, for I want us to have a few days during which we can see a lot of each other before the grind sets in for the long time until June. The first few days of school—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday—can bear a little slighting, in a good cause. They usually don’t amount to much anyhow.Just read another chapter of “San Michele,” the one in which the Dr. has been out in the moonlight with the Countess. The fantastic conversation with the moon in his dream was beautiful, and the reading of those few pages made me long to be in such a [illegible] lovely and moonlit place with you. Remember the big, orange colored moon we found on top of a hill by the side of a winding road? I kissed you in the moon-light, and told you I loved you. Now I can’t kiss you, and there’s no moonlight, but just the same I’ll tell you,
I love you,
Harold.