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My darling love,
You cannot think what a thrill it is for me at the beginning of the day to see your handwriting on the envelope in the box – and with what depression and anxiety I approach it in case it is not there. I say to myself, Of course there won't be one today because the posts will be irregular. Or, she may not have time. Or, well, why should she write every day anyway? And then … ah! there it is; I can see something in the box even through the glass doors. I am writing this immediately when I have just opened your letter, in the short space between two patients, but have only read the first sentence …
I am sorry the weather has been poor as I believe it would be very good for you to get plenty of sun and air – also sea bathes. Also I agree with you that an absence of me is doing you no good. I am the medicine you need all right. Plenty of me, day and night, for ever. We shall have to arrange it …
Well I have just spoken to you on the phone and that has put everything out of my head except the thought of our meeting. Truly I never felt a fortnight could possibly be such a weary agony of waiting. I don't know how I shall last out the next week. This one seems to have been almost as much as I could stand and heaven knows it has been easy enough …