I started this on the way to work this morning and couldn’t finish. Now we have finished work and it is tea-time. We have been taking turns driving around wet, slippery streets making calls, and Marje is calling me to tea and the remains of the guava.
Your letters have been most interesting lately and my next ought to be so!
Love,
Esther.
XXV
FROM ESTHER
September 9, 1917.
Dearest Father:—
I’ve been there! Past the sentries, through the devastated villages, right into the army zone.
How many pictures I’ve seen marked, “Somewhere in France,” or, “Results of German Shells.” How endlessly have I pored over Sunday supplements or watched miles of film click by, trying always to imagine myself really standing on French soil, seeing real things. But the pictures were always just black and white, and I never managed to step into them.