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Writer's pictureFlea Market Love Letters

September 21, 1924.


Friday Eve 


My Dearest: - 


Well we got as far as Loudonville, but it was raining so hard, Lou didn’t want to go on further. We are about 80 miles from Columbus. So we will start for there very early in the morning and be home some time in the afternoon. 


This is some town! Pardon, but my pen is empty – and if you will forgive me for being discourteous as to write with pencil, I’ll continue. 


You know dear, this is the sort of town that closes the one + only hotel dining room at 7 o’clock, has one bathroom on a floor – and you have to carry water to your room in a big white china pitcher. Get the idea? It’s a good place to keep away from, or to die in. One movie house – and everybody – it seems congregates on the main street. I imagine amusement places are very scarce around here. I think it’s a terrible town, city don’t even have a street car. You see I’ve never stayed in a town of this sort over night before. But it’s a lot of fun. 


We lost a lot of time in the beginning on account of roads that were being repaired etc. Also a few detours had to be taken. 


Gee dear, but it I hated to leave today. This week has been like the weeks we used to spend previous to August. Wasn’t it? 



Oh dear boy, if you only really and honestly believed how I cared but do you really? 


I can hardly concentrate, some one around here has a phonograph or victrola, and they are playing “Darling I am growing old”. Such new puppy selections, and such voices – it’s terrible! Now they are playing what must be a church hymn, they should – after what I’ve been hearing for the last half an hour or so. I think the song – “I am growing old” is peculiarly appropriate, if I take the pain in my back into consideration. That darn thing is making it-self felt tonight. 


Dear, I do hope that you and George have a nice weekend together and that you catch up on your much needed sleep again. Don’t try to do too much in the evening – try at least to go to bed early. 


Nothing else dear boy, except that I thought of you a lot this afternoon and love you loads and loads. 


Always yours, 

Estel

P.S

Regards to George + the other Friends 


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