September 15, 1940.
Your so called “mean” letter was the sweetest, cutest thing I have ever read in all my life. I guess I must be pretty mean and crack the whip over you pretty hard to make yo ufeel so self concious.
Gee, if I could ever posibly get mad at you for such a thing after such a letter -- I would have to be the worst king of a heel -- which I am sure that I can be at times. Your predicament must have been terrible at club 72 -- and I can just imagine your trying to explain. I love you so much, darling, and there are such big things on my mind now that nothing else could bother me now. Honestly, darling, it is like a big heavy load on my heart day and night. I wake up lots of nights and worry and pray for an hour. It is truly depressing me crazy and I don’t know what to do.
I had my car all fixed up -- except for the muffler and it nearly does run good now.
Mother and I have been playing cards all evening and it is about ten thirty now.
Your letter written Sunday was so sweet, baby, I just got through rereading it. I believe we are closer now than we have ever been before and we will keep on getting closer and closer -- I just know it.
It takes trouble and ups and downs and rough going to bring people together -- and we [unreadable] to be smack up against one another now.
I love you