Your tales of Ellis sound wonderful Gretch–I’m glad he squired you around. Sort of a Cosmopolitan he-had-only-6-days story–I can understand his defection of the last Sat. night–probably just didn’t want to deliver himself up like a trussed chicken, knew he would if he showed.
And the stories of the little old man falling on his neck in Union Square, Mother dropping the duck and chasing after its skidding form in her underwear, swearing at Hizzonner–had me guffawing aloud.
The big box of cookies arrived the other day and was duly appreciated by all hands–really very good ones they were–you could taste the rich butter. You mentioned some pictures recently. Did you mean the old ones with the one of you as a girl, Mother? That’s all that I know of.
I’ve had a bad cold for the past two or three days, but it is beginning to clear up now. It’s the first hint of a sickness that I’ve had in about six months, except for a couple of rather severe hangovers–weighed myself the other day and tipped it at 162. The most yet. Trouble is, most of it is going to my legs and thighs instead of arms, but that’s OK–I’d still like to have another 20 pounds.
I sent a couple of gifts to Fran & Kitsy. I don’t know why I haven’t sent yours–more, I guess, because I want to bring them home to you than anything else. The wandering mariner pulling things out of the depths of his wondrous sea chest.
And about the long letter on Namur–the obvious reasons were both personal & military. That is, it was written for your two–I know that you would understand my motives, others might not–as I say, it isn’t often done, speaking of the dangers one has experienced–waves of modesty are supposed to overcome one–and then I don’t know exactly the military restrictions–it would have to be passed by someone in Marine Corps. You see I am really my own censor–though Roy or Harry or Oz may sign it, no one looks at it between you and me. They can and may sometimes, but the chances are slim.
Anyway I can do a better job–will someday–there are several things I’d like to say. A lot that I want to write about sometime.
Lots of love my dears–and do keep writing, you can never write too often, as you probably have guessed by now.
(or as some of my most intimate friends say, “Eagle”!)
 Ellis Loree, a friend of Gretchen’s from the Art Student’s League, with whom she was “enjoying the infancy of a nice romance.”
 “Hizzoner”–a slangy New York term for mayor. Why Mayor LaGuardia was invoked in Margaretta’s anatidaean troubles is not entirely clear.
 Cousins, Frances and Kitsy Wood.