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Bloomington, Indiana
April 23, 1919

Dear Esther:

I am afraid that if I do not write nice letters that I shall lose my reputation. Most people, here and there, think that I am not yet disreputable enough for solitary confinement; but I wonder if anyone knows my true state of mind. If I cast reflections of an undesirable quality I am sorry.

And I now know from your last, most pleasant letter, that I must have been registered in your mind as an extremely polite (or impolite?) liar. I am glad you learned differently without the necessity of my explanation. I had forseen [sic] the possibility of a doubt, therefore I had prepared; but did I intend for you to find it?

I have heard so much about that "story of love and married life" that I do wish I could help fill your opera-house tonight. Isn't it tonight, Wednesday, April 23? Mother said that she enjoyed the play very much. It must have been well done. But I do not see how a play of love could be very good if there was no kissing to help interpret the meaning of the most interesting and heart-throbbing scenes. A good play cannot end these days unless there is a splendid lovers' hug and long drawn kiss to conclude the last romantic act. Kissing is a universal autograph of love.

Perhaps I should speak of your class meeting. Was it a success? I am missing all such fine social functions by being a "college sport." Ha

We have some adorable mid-term examinations this week. I have to write an argument about the League of Nations tonight before retiring. I imagine you and I could discuss it. Ha, ha. Sen. New spoke on it here the other day. College life is a life.

I am going to a violin concert by Isolde Menges, an English world-renowned violinist. I am interested in such music as you know. But there is the misfortune of not having a roommate who appreciates good (?) music. Ha.

Hoping that someday you will be a great actress, I beg to remain,

Yours Truly,
Richard







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