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Saturday, November 21, 1908
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Stritt packed up his duds and turned his back on Aden this morning. Not for his, he says. Back to Frankfort, a.m. I'm sorry to have him go, - he and I got along very well together and used to have some exciting tennis when we got together. He was much too good for the "Abe Stein crowd", and I don't wonder at his wanting to leave them. Bon voyage, mein Herr, and don't let the pleasures of the Continent lead you astray.

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Sunday, November 22, 1908
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My correspondents at home are becoming decidedly slack. I have had about four personal letters in as many weeks. Edie is the only faithful one. She's a whole brickyard, that Kid is.