hers have been killed, and they all knelt and kissed my hands.
It was awful. I thought of Hope, and hugged a few and carried them
around in my arms and felt much better. Today for the first time, I
quit work and went to see an American film at the cinema to cheer me.
But when I saw the streetcars, and "ready to wear" clothes, and the
policemen I got suicidal. I went back and told the others and they all
rushed off to see "home" things, and are there now. This is a yell of
a letter, but it's the only kind I can write. My stories and cables
are rotten, too. I have seen nothing--just traveled and waited for
something to happen. Goodnight, dearest one. I love you so. You will
never know how much I love you. Kiss my darling for me, and, think
only of the good days when we will be together again. Such good days.
Goodnight again--all love.

RICHARD.

HARBOR SALONICA, December 19th.

I am a happy man tonight! And that is the first time I have been able
to say so since I left you. The backbone of the trip is broken! and my
face is turned West--toward you and Hope. John McCutcheon gave me a
farewell dinner tonight of which I got one half, as the police made me
go on board at nine, although we do not sail until five in the morning.
So there was time for only one toast, as I was making for the door.
Was it to your husband? It was not. It was to Hope Davis, two weeks
yet of being one year old, and being toasted by the war correspondents
in Salonica. They knew it would please me. And I went away very
choken and happy. SUCH a boat as this is! I have a sofa in the
dining-room, and at present it is jammed with refugees and all smoking
and not an air port open. What a relief it will be to once more get
among clean people. We must help the Servians, and God knows they need
help. But, if they would help each other, or themselves, I would like
them better. I am now on deck under the cargo light and, on the top
floor of the Olympus Hotel, can see John's dinner growing gayer and
gayer. It is like the man who went on a honeymoon alone. I am so
happy tonight. You seem so near now that I am coming West.

How terribly I have missed you, and wanted you, and longed for your
voice and LAUGH, and to have you open the door of my writing room, and
say, "A lady is coming to call on you," and then enter the dearest wife
and dearest baby in the world!

God bless you, and all my love.

RICHARD.

ROME,

Christmas Ev