DIY History | Transcribe | World War II Diaries and Letters | Laura Davis letters to her husband Lloyd Davis, November-December 1942 | 1942-12-11 Laura Davis to Lloyd Davis Page 4

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Laura Davis letters to her husband Lloyd Davis, November-December 1942

1942-12-11 Laura Davis to Lloyd Davis Page 4

hurt. I thought you pretty perfect and Ardy knew how against a drink I was. You didn't expect us that day and there was no reason then why I should have felt ouchy about it. But I did. It was like I lost face personally or something I can't just explain, but the fellow I liked better than all others had been doing what was on my first list of hates, and I couldn't depend on his conduct while I was away. The last straw was a day or so before Dad died when Bill and his girl were at the shop and you took a ride and a drink. It wasn't the drink but the stupid excuse that you couldn't get out of it that hurt me so. I wrote a real long note to you after I went to my room at Miss Calderwoods that night before supper. Then I decided I couldn't make you see how it was anyway as the writing seemed so inadequately to express my feelings, so I destroyed it after shedding brine. Then the next day Dad died and I was glad I hadn't given you the note. You let me help you a little during your sad times then and if I'd hurt your feelings without succeeding in making you understand I probably never would have been able, or asked, to help you. I thought when I wrote the

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hurt. I thought you pretty perfect and Ardy knew how against a drink I was. You didn't expect us that day and there was no reason then why I should have felt ouchy about it. But I did. It was like I lost face personally or something I can't just explain, but the fellow I liked better than all others had been doing what was on my first list of hates, and I couldn't depend on his conduct while I was away. The last straw was a day or so before Dad died when Bill and his girl were at the shop and you took a ride and a drink. It wasn't the drink but the stupid excuse that you couldn't get out of it that hurt me so. I wrote a real long note to you after I went to my room at Miss Calderwoods that night before supper. Then I decided I couldn't make you see how it was anyway as the writing seemed so inadequately to express my feelings, so I destroyed it after shedding brine. Then the next day Dad died and I was glad I hadn't given you the note. You let me help you a little during your sad times then and if I'd hurt your feelings without succeeding in making you understand I probably never would have been able, or asked, to help you. I thought when I wrote the