New Providence, N. J.
Nov 2, 1898
From: Ruth Barrell
To: William A Gray
My Dear Will:
I was much nearer you today, Dear, than you thought for. Bessie and I were in the
city. There were some things I had to have in order to go on with my work; and as Mother
and Ethel are going away Friday morning, we had to go right away or wait until they
returned, several weeks hence. We had a busy day and of course were tired when it was
all over, but things came along very nicely. I bought the white dress, Will, and all its
fixings, which are not many for it is to be delightfully simple. Just such a dress as I know
will please you. Of course I do not intend making it the first thing, not until we know the
date, but it will keep and is suitable for any season.
O, Will, it’s lots of fun buying these things and you cannot imagine all the sweet
dreams I have now-a-days with every thing to remind me of our dear future.
The cloth for my new suit came yesterday, just what I wanted. It will make a
beautiful dress, I think, that is to be kept for the grand occasion too. I got a lot of other
pretty things, “bargains.” But this talk is enough to disgust any man, so I’ll have some
consideration and stop.
O, one more thing the room, our room, has had one improvement so far this week,
the ceiling is now a soft warm pinky shade, that matches beautifully with that new paper.
Aren’t you sick of adjectives?
I hope you are feeling much better by the time this reaches you, you dear tired boy.
I just long to have you here to kiss and love to my hearts content tonight. You need me to
love you more, when you don’t feel real well, than any other time, don’t you? And I always
seem to love you in a deeper, truer way then too.
I am thinking of you as going to bed early every night, but one. I don’t know which
one that is and I hope that horrid old rheumatism isn’t bothering you any, or the cold either.
Don’t forget to take your medicines regularly.
I wish I had some nice trip to tell you about or some interesting book, but I haven’t. I
can only tell you once more how perfectly happy I am, and how very much I love you, Will.
I love to think that perhaps it will only be ten or twelve weeks before we can have each
other for ever and aye. Weeks sound nearer than months, don’t you think so, Love.
Now, dear heart, I will close this silliest of silly letters with love, and loads of love to
my own precious Will, and kisses upon kisses.
Ever, always —
— and only yours.