Saturday Nite.
Oct. 24, 1925.

My dearest Sweetheart:

Your letter of Sunday P.M. written at West Palm Beach reached me today, and the irregularity of the mail is shown by the fact that your letter from the Beach written two days later reached me yesterday. Of course the difference in the distance makes some difference, but still you traveled faster than your letter, according to that.

October 24, 1925

I am enclosing a little article on the Florida boom that I came across in the Uvalde Leader-News. I hope that the steps that are being taken to stop the rush will not be effective any time soon, don’t you?

This morning I was very much shocked when someone ‘phoned that Mrs. D.H. Crisp, the wife of my former employer for whom I kept books for about six years, had suddenly died last night. It was so sudden that it was a shock to everyone. As soon as we heard it I went to her home for a few minutes. I always have a feeling of utter helplessness and uselessness in a case like this because all I can do is to show respect by going and carrying flowers. They already had enough friends to sit up with the corpse tonight. The funeral is to be tomorrow afternoon. I feel so sorry for Mr. Crisp, and it is especially sad as she left two little girls, one eight and the other four years old. No doubt one of his sisters here will care for them.

Sweetheart, I love you, you don’t know how very very much. I wish I could be with you right now.

Always, your loving,
Ina.

Sunday P.M.
P.S. I rushed off this morning without carrying this letter, so I am enclosing the one for today also.

You can click and zoom into the image of the letter if you want to read the news clipping.