Original Letter

            Sept. 21st 1918

My Sweetheart:–

Somehow or other I am getting shaken down into the way of things again – not getting to like them, or it – but getting used to it. Getting your letter each day makes it bearable. So it was a tired little “honey pale” who wrote me on the 15th and she would fain be taken in my arms and go to bed! Lordy, Dear, do you know that I want to do that more than I want anything in the world. And I would tell you interesting things – about the whaling industry – until you forgot that you were tired to death from hiking up to the Reazins – I’d quite forgotten that they had an ‘a’ in their name. I can easily imagine that it was a long lonesome hike and I shudder at the thought of you coming down that ghastly dark road on the hill alone. Why if you had not been with me on that road those nights I would have been scared stiff. Poor old Lees is on the blink – its too bad.

And the silly little angel used to think she had bored me when I wanted to read! You are a queer, Maidie, and silly withal. I expect that the wish to read with me is just a part of my make up like loving you, breathing and living. But certainly it does not keep me from loving you any less you Sweetheart of all the world.

I adore you always and you well know it and this time I shan’t beat you for suggesting that I ever didn’t but one day, unless you are careful what you write with your pen or say with your tongue, I shall beat you and two or three weeks afterwards – when I get out of hospital  you will realise that I am a man of my words.

Dearest, I must close and get this into the bag. With all my love.

            Your own

                        Ross.

 

Love to Monsieur et Dame Thompson