Original Letter


                        December 16th 1917.


My Dearest Mary:–

Just the odd minute or two as everything is speeding up as it always does before a move. Its funny, this job, the work comes in gusts, sometimes I think that I never shall get through and an hour afterwards I find myself wondering what I was doing that made me so busy. Its fine and irregular though and therefore never gets monotonous. I just can tell from here that I am going to regret this good room with its fire and electric light and comfort generally. But I look forward to the move just the same. Of course up to now it has always been reasonably warm and fine. But the cold is better than wet and mud and I don’t quail from the discomfort ­ in fact I enjoy life far more when we are in some curious makeshift kind of a place. Every one improves somehow or other when they get forward, wits are sharper and everyone is cleaner generally. Anyway the fleshpots do not appeal to me unless I can be with you to enjoy them. Without you, well I prefer to be a kind of a sort of a gopher and live in Bairnsfather houses and wash in a petrol tin or a German steel helmet, eat bully and biscuits out of a tin dixie and only have a spoon to eat it with. It isn’t really quite like that but even if it were I should still enjoy it. But all the time I am just longing to go to you and hating every minute of the time spent away from you – which God be thanked gets shorter each day. I could never be happy away from you you know, Dear, and there is no use of me trying to pretend that I can. I adore you, Babykins just above all the world. You are all my world and you are a very grand world to me. Mon ange. Comme vous-êtes charmante. (I wonder if that is said right. I know that the phrase – anyway – is right only not nearly strong enough. Au revoir, Maidie of mine.

            Your own