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March 30 1944.

Dear Hedda - It's evening now, after diner and stay in a large room with fire. I listened for a while  Radio Bucharest, silly and sad. I never been in years so near to that place. I received today a few New Yorkers with drawings of mine and Ross wrote me a real love letter (I showed it to a friend of mine here and he asked me who are you going to marry? The girl in 50th St. E. you told me about or Mr. Ross of The New Yorker?). My cousine Gertrude wrote me, she's staying with Uncle Harry (her father) because her husband is in the Army. She made a child while I was overseas who's almost a year old now (both child and my overseas). The baby goat I told you about we have around, paid me a visit today and jumped in my bed. Then later on [[strikethrough]] he [[/strikethrough]] I found him in the bathtub.

I received the last week 3 V mail letters you sent me and I decided not to write you anymore on V mail, the writing is too small and the letters look too artificial. Maybe a drawing in the V mail might look all right.

March 31 1944 

Last night while I was writing you something happened and I had to stop. Now it's morning and cold and in a couple of hours the courrier may come with mail. I read again yesterday night 

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