August 2, 1939.
My dearest --
I don’t know if you will be able to read this or not -- I’m witing sitting in bed. Oh, I’m alright, darling, don’t worry. You see they let me eat supper down stairs in the dining room tonight and then they let me stay downstairs until eight o’clock when every one must go to their room.
By eight it’s too dark to write at my desk by day light and my little lamp doesn’t make nearly enough light over that far to write by, so I’m writing on a book in bed. As you can see, “its” not a bit comfortable. Tomorrow I’ll try to work a new routine for writing. So if I’m a little more brief tonight than usual you’ll understand that it’s because everything is better. I don’t know why I said “everything” in trying to tell you that I’m better except I was thinking “everything” would be more pleasant now.
Because I must hurry to be finished by nine (and I haven’t had my back rubbed nor taken my ovaltine yet) I’ll bet I won’t be able to think of the things I was going to write. But we shall wee. I did get a letter from you today, and darling, I enjoyed it as much. It seems I always say that, but each time I get a letter from you I seem to enjoy it more.
You sure did have a lot of company at our house, didn’t you? I’m just sorry that I wasn’t (or rather, couldn’t) be there to help entertain them, but that will come later. I’m feeling much stronger, I think, or they wouldn’t have let me up so long. (I just had my ovaltine and pill)
The house sounds nicer each time you write. I’m just waiting for the tile window sills to be put in. Honestly, I’m so anxious to know how they will look I can scarcely wait.
Do you think you will get the furniture needed by the 15th? The fire place and the floors sound positively entrancing -- in fact, the place sounds just like the place I want to live in with you, my dearest. Now, don’t you think I propose nicely? Oh, but won’t it be wonderful, darling? Truly, it seems like I’ll be going to still another world to be coming home to you in a lovely home you have build for me.
I’m afraid this might be a rather unsatisfactory letter -- it’s short and rambly.
Goodnight, my sweetheart, amo te.