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Nov. 9th. 1895. My Dear One, Mary Parmalee did not come and I have got the blues so desperately that I have got to fly over to your house or something will break I feel so desperate these days from about lunch time to dark that I hardly know what I am doing. I have worked very hard today at packing and unpacking
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trunks, and I guess I am in one of those conditions when I should snap if there was any one to snap at. I wonder if you are tired too, darling, it is selfish of me to always come to you with my dumps. Don't forget, that I love you, my own sweetheart, sick or well, tired or cheerful that is the one thing that never changes. Your loving Sunshine under a cloud