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Conger Reynolds correspondence, July 1918
Conger Reynolds to Daphne Reynolds Page 5
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love directly. I don't mean that the love-making by letter satisfies -- nay, nay, -- but as far as that kind of love-making can, yours does. I used to tell my sister that there were two kinds of girls -- those who made good pals to chum around with and those who could write good letters. I never found one who really interested me in both respects. Either I liked her company and didn't care for her letters, or I liked the letters and didn't enjoy her as a pal. But that was before I knew you. I've learned very well that you are the queen of lovers and the best of all letter-writers. To be honest with you, as a husband should be with his wife, I need to say that you are not always at your best in letters. That I can well understand because I am frequently conscious that this or the other letter I have written was far below what I ought to do. We people of impressionable emotions can't always write as we should like to. But your worst is still good, and your best -- well, dearest, it is indescribably wonderful. I think there is nowhere in written or printed form such another expression of love as in some of your letters that I treasure. I am not a bit discreet about what I write to you. Two days ago, for instance, I blurted out a lot about how good I'm being, about how I have cast off all disposition to look at anyone feminine but my own beautiful wife. Now, that was not good tact at all in these days of sophistication. I'll either make you too sure of me or cause you to doubt me by reason
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love directly. I don't mean that the love-making by letter satisfies -- nay, nay, -- but as far as that kind of love-making can, yours does. I used to tell my sister that there were two kinds of girls -- those who made good pals to chum around with and those who could write good letters. I never found one who really interested me in both respects. Either I liked her company and didn't care for her letters, or I liked the letters and didn't enjoy her as a pal. But that was before I knew you. I've learned very well that you are the queen of lovers and the best of all letter-writers. To be honest with you, as a husband should be with his wife, I need to say that you are not always at your best in letters. That I can well understand because I am frequently conscious that this or the other letter I have written was far below what I ought to do. We people of impressionable emotions can't always write as we should like to. But your worst is still good, and your best -- well, dearest, it is indescribably wonderful. I think there is nowhere in written or printed form such another expression of love as in some of your letters that I treasure. I am not a bit discreet about what I write to you. Two days ago, for instance, I blurted out a lot about how good I'm being, about how I have cast off all disposition to look at anyone feminine but my own beautiful wife. Now, that was not good tact at all in these days of sophistication. I'll either make you too sure of me or cause you to doubt me by reason
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