December 1, 1925

Tuesday Night.

My Dear Sweetheart,

No news, Dear, but I am writing that I love you just the same.

The storm played havoc with the piers and bulkheads along the water front. I don’t know what the damage was, but it is quite evident. The ocean was pretty angry.

December 1, 1925

December 1, 1925

I haven’t sold the acreage as yet. Perhaps you will have reasons to call me a bum realtor. Have reduced my price as I was probably too high. At least, I was told so by the people whom I purchased the tracts from. Hope to be able to tell you that I sold them, before long.

I love you, Dear, and always will.