Now I must be off to my own hotel, and to-morrow I shall be up with the dawn in search of a mechanic and new parts for the car.
Good-bye, old man. Wish me luck.
Yours ever,
Jack Winston.
MOLLY RANDOLPH TO HER FATHER
Hotel Angst, Bordighera,
December 25.
Merry Christmas, my dear Santa Klaus, merry Christmas! This morning I sent you a long cable, expressing my sentiments. It does seem strange to think that by this time you have it. A thousand thousand thanks for your letter and the enclosure at Cannes. You are the dearest Dad!
Our first Christmas apart! and may it be the last. Christmas isn't Christmas without you and a stocking to hang up, and I'm awfully homesick. Still, if one can't be spirited away home on a magic carpet, this is the sweetest place to spend Christmas in you can imagine.