Tuesday noon (1030, rather)

Dearest love:

Everything is going well - just now the air raid sirens are sounding: I don't know whether this will interfere with my getting down to the meetings on the streetcar. I slept late this morning - yesterday was somewhat tiring, partially because Fajans argued with me for an hour, and another man, Brand (a refugee in Hans Clarke's lab - apparently able), asked my opinion of various matters for a longer time. I have seen a number of people. I sat at the speaker's table , with Pitzer, ABlamb, REGibson, etc. at the dinner last night.

Tomorrow my meetings on war work begin. Today I shall introduce Pitzer, and then attend the dinner Lamb is giving his associate editors.

Soon the half - way time will be reached - tomorrow. My bed in this punk little hotel isn't bad; it would be better if you were in it.

The sirens are now sounding, and the streetcars have started.

I shall come home on the Chief, and shall get off at Lamanda Park, where I hope to see your sweet face Monday morning. Since the Chief is always late now you should telephone the station.

I love you, dear sweetheart. Kiss the little children for me.

Your candy is still holding out, but is now nearly gone. It is perfect.

Yesterday was sweltering here, but it rained last night and is cooler today.

Love from

Paddy