7th June, 1919.

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Everyone's blood is blue, it's only when you're cut and bleeding that it is red.

You may hate every bone in his body, but you can thank my father for one thing at least. He has invited your family for a week and your step-father is dragging you along whether you like it or not.

I look forward to seeing you, I can finally say what's been plaguing my mind without hospitalising your landlady, she practically fainted when she heard one of your more colourful uses of the vernacular.

And please don't say that you are sorry when your not.

F.

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