I got three most welcome letters yesterday evening from you, postmarked 15, 16, and 17 July. It was a wonderful tonic. I also heard from my father and I got a combination letter from Barbie and Steve – so you see, sweetheart – I went to bed relaxed. Your letters, dear, sure do a lot for me. I sit and wonder about it after I’m through reading them. It’s a strange reaction – but satisfying, and to know that you continue to love me is the most important part of it.
I wonder occasionally if all the nice things you say about me are true and if I might not disappoint you, perhaps. It isn’t a complex by any means, darling. I just want to live up to everything you think I am – or can be. All in all – I’m a pretty happy guy and I think my present set-up is excellent. I am not referring to France, darling – but to you and home. I do have something to come back to – you; we’re engaged, there’ll be no reason for us to wait long before getting married. Secondly – I don’t have to look for a job; I have my profession and a city to practice it in – which is a mighty important factor, too. Besides – I’m still on the staff of a Class A hospital – and all in all – you can see why I have a right to be happy, sweetheart. Sure – there’s a war on, but I’ve written you before – I try to consider it as an interlude, perhaps part of the price I have to pay for being happy and fortunate.