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Dear Gertrude
I thought the enclosed letters with replies would interest you. The ref answers to them are not as full and elaborate as I would like to make them, but I hesitated—fearing I might, if I wrote as I felt, be too verbose. I sincerely hope what I say in these letters pleases you. They are, as you notice, rather general in terms, but that seems to me better taste than to err on the side of making them too personal.
Somehow, I have a feeling of real reserve when writing or speaking of to others of you; my real feelings for you are too deep, too tender, too genuine for others, but they are, like my life and love, for you—and surely you well know that!
Sunday I made numerous calls that were overdue. That night I dined with Hugh and Mrs. Wallace. They are sailing Saturday for Bordeaux. I suppose you will very likely see them Saturday, as they said they were going to call you up. Hugh was very anxious for me to go with him on the trip—but very persuasive that I spend Friday and Saturday in New York. Why not tell them the good news, as they will not be back before April.
My stay in New York will be quite brief next week with the President and Miss Edith. The President is planning to leave here on Friday the 28th for a speaking tour in the West,—Ohio, Illinois, Iowa and Missouri. I don’t know all of the details and various places where he is to speak yet.—Miss Edith is going. How I wish you were going to be a member of the party.
Last night a brilliant reception was given to the President and Mrs. Wilson by the Pan-American Diplomats. I got home at 2.30 this morning. It is now near midnight. The night is clear, bright and warm. I will take this to the station to mail, hoping it will catch the one A.M. mail train to New York. I wish I was were going to you instead. I am downright lonely for you. I will be counting the hours until I see you in New York next week.
Good-night, dearest one.
I love you. Good night, again—
Cary