The Beach. Monday Nite.
My Dear Sweetheart,
Three letters today and each of them was a message of joy. I had begun to worry, fearing that you were ill. Two of them came this morning before I went to Jax and the other came on the same train that I returned on tonight. Gee! but they were great and I wish I could hug you real hard for them. I am returning Mr. Womack’s letter as you will probably want it. No doubt you have quite a collection of letters of such a nature by this time, for I know that there were a number previous to the two you have sent me. I can’t blame them for wanting such a dear little girl as yourself, and I often wonder how it happened that you had not fallen off the limb before I told you something. I certainly consider myself lucky, Dear, and I am going to do my best so that you will never regret your choice.
My sister writes that she certainly did not make a mistake in her hubby. He seems to be mighty good to her, and now even my mother thinks that he is alright. Mother would have felt the same way regardless of the man. I guess it is natural. I certainly appreciate the attitude of Mother Lewis and Daddy Lewis. They have certainly shown a good spirit toward us, and I hope that as the years go by they will never have an occasion to wish that your choice had been different.
I certainly do love you, Dear, and I am in hopes that I’ll get word from Mr. B to the effect that I can work here all winter. That would make it mighty fine for the honeymoon here.
After I had written you that our engagement was four months old I remembered that it was on the 10th. I intended to mention it in my next letter. It was the 5th when I left Dallas.
With a sweet goodnight, I am,