Darling Hazel, Old Thing,—Wish me luck because I am starting out on the biggest enterprise of my life. What a pity we are not Roman Catholics and then you could burn candles for me. I am going down to Aunt Verena’s to propose to Clemency Power, that divine Irish girl. I wrote to her last night but I’m such a rotten letter-writer that I’m going down to see her in person and learn my fate. I even tried to get the letter back, but postmen are so rottenly honest. I waited for hours in the rain for the pillar-box to be emptied and offered him two pounds and an old overcoat, but all he did was to threaten to call a policeman. If she accepts me I shall be the luckiest man on earth and there’s nothing I shan’t be able to do. You’ll see. But if she turns me down I don’t know what will happen. I shall probably become a film-actor in broken-hearted stories. Lots of people have said I have the right kind of mobile face for the movies, and really there’s nothing infra dig in it. Clemency is two or three years older than I am, but I think that’s all to the good. What I need is a steadying hand. You will adore her.—Yours ever,
Roy