Text: “Friday night. Sweetheart, My Own. I’m so so lonesome for you tonight I hardly know what to do. My, what wouldn’t I give for — to be where we were this time last Saturday night! Sweetheart, sweetheart, you have no idea how much I think of you, and how often I long for you. I’d give — on, anything for just one big hot kiss tonight. Yes, it’s only three weeks, a little less than that now until we’ll be together again, but that surely looks like a long time. And yet these weeks really do fly by pretty fast, the weekends seem to come before you know it. Paul Conner was talking to me last night, looking at your picture here and commenting on how little like you it was, hoc much more attractive the original was, and he said — “Boy I wouldn’t advise you marrying in your circumstances, but if she’s the one, you certainly have my permission any time you get ready” . . . As you can guess I am all by myself here in the room. Dr. Bethel, an intern at the hospital here, the one who took me to hear the grand opera last week and seems to have taken somewhat of a liking to me, dropped in just now and stayed about a half of an hour, telling me all about some of the cases he’s been having this week, and discussing things in general. I tell him how sorry I was he did not get to meet you Sunday, but he said he was on the go every minute of the day, even stayed all night that night with several cases. I enjoyed his little visit very much — but still I want something else than just friendship and companionship. You know what I want and what I crave. I love you, I love you. Tomorrow is a holiday, with nothing to do but sleep and study. We have a quiz, another one already, in histology Monday, so I guess I’ll put in a few hours reviewing these last two weeks’ work for it. Then too I’ve got to start writing up my chem. lab book, which I haven’t even begun yet. Yes, we do have quizzes on those stiffs, “practicals,” they’re called, but we haven’t had a formal one yet, only the little incidental ones during the lab. A bunch of us went to a show right after supper tonight, saw Owen Moore in “Love is an Awful Thing;” it was a real good show, a comedy, as you might judge from the name, and we all laughed ourselves sore. You see we can run dow to a show right after supper, about six thirty or seven, and be back by eight thirty. My, here is is novelly eleven o’clock, and I have got to get up in time for […] tomorrow! So I guess I’d better get the American Medical Journal and read a while, then turn in. I got a box from mother this afternoon with two big loaves of nut-bread, that good old homemade nut bread — and it surely has been popular! One love gone already! Ted Terry declares up and down he’s going to write you that I go a big box from Cisco! He just came in for another slice and says he may change his mind! Sweetheart, dear — I love you Felix.”
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Place Name coordinates. (May be approximate.)
