Tuesday morning, 1
30
Dearest sweetheart:
I love you, darling girl, and I wish that I were at home with you. No letter has come for me yet. I haven't been able to get to sleep-you remember that when I was alone at Cornell I couldn't go to sleep until 4. Here I must do better, since usually I shall have to get up at 7. Tomorrow we are not going out to the lab until noon, because we want to look up some things in the library here at Carnegie Tech.
I hope that you are careful if you go over at night to swim. You looked awfully sweet and beautiful swimming in the
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moonlight.
It is hard to believe that this is only the sixth night that I have been away from you, little darling.
Tonight I read a novel which was in Kisty's office-"Water Gypsies", by AP Herbert, who writes for Punch [?] and is an M. P. He is clever, especially at making his characters real.
I'll turn out the light now sweetheart, and go to bed. I hope that you aren't lonesome. Remember that I love you.
A little while ago, at 11, there came three knocks on the wall, and then a knock on the door-it was James (in dressing gown)-saying that I had knocked
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on the wall and he thought I wanted him! I remember that I had been drumming on my book while reading, and I must have drummed on the wall. You see that I am in good hands.
9 AM
Dearest love:
Holmes [?] and I are going to have breakfast (I think that I hear him up) and go to the library now. I slept all night, although it is rather noisy here. Life in Pasadena is much more pleasant-as would be life anywhere with
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you.
Loots [?] of love, little darling. Keep an eye on the children. I o your mamma going to come?
Your own
Linus
August
11, 1942
