Frances darling,
Ive been reading your letter over all day, its so dear, even the part thatworried me. I imagine that tomorrow mornings mail will tell me what hashappened and whether I really upset things. My mind has been constantly on the Cape——I can see you, but I don’t know what you are doing and saying, andI want so dreadfully to know. Tell me that everything is all right, and tell meagain. Ive wanted to telephone, but I know you don’t like the telephone, andbesides I remember that yours is right out in the middle of everything andconversation is impossible. Damn the distance between us！ You wont get thisuntil thirty-six hours after I write it. But remember that when I tell you now thatI love you I shall be loving you even more by the time you read the words. LastSunday I couldn’t have believed that my love could ever be bigger and strongerthan it was then——but its growing every hour. Cant you feel it？
Yesterday ！ Couldn’t do a stroke of work. I was exhausted——burned out——stunned. The terrific suspense and emotional strain and then the unbelievablehappiness left me without much body or mind. But today I was myself again,only better than ever before; you were the motive for everything. Ive never hadso much energy. You have done that; don’t stop.
Havent you a photograph or even a snapshot of yourself？. I want to look atand touch, as I read and touch your letters; it helps bring you a little closer.
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