Original Letter

            France.

                        13th April 1918

My Dearest:–

Its been a poor kind of a journée sans lettre, cold and generally uncomfortable – about the best thing that can be said for it, is that it is the end of a week. Isn’t that a fine wail when as a matter of fact I have just been counting over the things I have to be thankful for and do you know that I used up my ten fingers in the counting? And I only counted you as ten! And mentioning being cold and uncomfortable was pure fiction for I have just polished off half a dixie of pea soup – made from one of the cubes I got in my parcel and I am experiencing a lovely glow from it. That’s a very wonderful parcel and I have lots of soup tablets and cacao left yet. That parcel must have cost you lots of good scads that you might have used for shoes and things you needed. But I have never had anything I enjoyed so much. The cocoa is a roaring success.

I didn’t spear any good dreams last night – I didn’t have any and how could I expect to have good dreams at night when I have such glorious ones all day long? Daydreams are much happier than night dreams because they can be controlled and fashioned according to the heart’s desire whereas a sleeping dream is always disappointing.

I haven’t been able to get away to-day at all and have decided to try again to-morrow to look up Leicester and hear what he has to say about things as they jolly well are at present.

Do you love me to-day, Sweetheart that is the important question. I have my answer but I want you to tell me again. How would it be? All right, if you won’t – but I am disappointed. Dearest, you have all my love.            Your own Ross