31 Mar
31 Mar
31 March 1920
Heres supper. Its a roaring night so we are drinking champagne to put it out of mind. Connie bought me another hat today - that makes six. She must stop. She "dresses" me just as though she were my grandma and I have more clothes than ever before. "Now that would suit you, darling. Youre such a little slight thing youll only need 2½ metres & Ill have it made with just a touch of . . ." & she holds it up against my cheek. Oh, it does remind me of Grandma so! Its awfully sweet.
Goodnight dearest dear. I love you for ever and ever amen.
In fack I ADORE you.
Your own
Wife.
. . . Tell me how you love me in your next letter . . . You see I love you so terrifically & Thursday is the 1st and then its only 27 days - 27 bregchiks, three ‘laundries'. 3 Sundays - Think of it - three Sundays and I shall be HOME. I feel quite shy with bliss. Youll whistle when you come in - won't you & Ill look over the stair. Then you must gallop up or Ill let down a little ladder - Well have very good dinners (all new food) & coffee & liqueurs. Oh oh oh I could go on for ever. What will you wear at the station. What hat? When I see your precious darling face & hand lifted & feet running I may fly into a 1000 pieces. Well walk arm in arm - forgetting our luggage. Will you be as happy as I will? Oh Boge!! [To J. M. Murry in Collected Letters, 30 March 1920]