February 7, 1927

My own:

I've a very bad fever working on me now- so you'll pardon me if I rave a little in this note. My fever did not come on me suddenly, but it is getting worse each minute. It's the fever to see you again. And since the urge will not leave me, I know, I'm planning on making another week end trip. I have almost persuaded mother to postpone her visit until late this week, with my plea that then I'll come up to get her. I must see you. I wander around here and wherever I go I see couples - oh gosh! how lonesome it makes me feel.

And your very good friend Elsie is still speaking of wonders of the world. She tells everyone she sees of our engagement, and how you have a niece older than yourself, and how I have had the ring for a very long time trying to put it on somebody (and at last have succeeded). More fun than a Sennett Comedy, I guess from what I hear.

By the way, do you remember the book she gave me when I graduated? And the sweet writing in it? Grrr-rrr-grrrrr. She's due for a swift kick - I hope she gets it.

Do you care if I dream about you? If I long to have you hear with me? If I pray that you'll dispose of the store in time? If I wish that April preceded March?

Bexley's waiting for you, young lady - but hang Bexley - so am I. There! No more trying to tell you how I love you.  I'll try to show you when I see you - I hope next Saturday.

Andy