Francesca my darling,

Even though it is so late I must just send you this tiny note. Sweetheart it was lovely to hear your dear voice: I worked quite well all day I think, and really quite enjoyed meeting Ken largely because he knew without my saying anything how deeply I felt about you and what a tremendous thing it was for me that such a beautiful woman loved me; yet when I found I could not get through to you I suddenly realized how badly I was missing you and how much strain it meant. I suddenly felt tired out and from that time on the hands of the clock simply crawled. I felt I must get home to the telephone, that I could hardly endure another moment without the sound of your sweet voice. And yet I managed to read some Fowler1 on the way back, sensibly too, so it must be a good sort of agony. Dear Sweetheart, my work is coming alive; the dull numb mechanical routine into which I have fallen is bursting wide open and it is all you my darling, my darling Francesca …