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But the days dragged by in rain and ement, and no letters came Once or twice he attempted to write a respectable letter to his ht having to see it that he kept it securely in his pocket, and contented hiay-pictured postcards which he had purchased in Brest, on which he inscribed a few non-co them of the censor, and his inability to say what he would, and always ending, "Re but cannot write at present for reasons which I cannot explain"

At night he lay on his watery couch and co letters to Ruth which he dared not put on paper lest soreat satisfaction in the fact that he had succeeded in slipping through a post card addressed to herself fro of a se of chewing gum Here at the camp there was no such opportunity, but he would wait and watch for another chance Meantiave hi of desolation such as he had never experienced before He began to grow introspective He fancied that perhaps he had overestimated Ruth's friendship for hie were brought out in the nightwatches and ruthlessly reviewed, until his own shy hope that the light in her eyes had been for hirew a conviction that happiness of earth was never for him For, he reasoned, if she cared, why did she not write? At least a post card? Other felloere getting letters now and then Day after day he waited when theever caotten, too Surely, all these weeks, soh It was not in reason that his mail should be delayed beyond others Could it be that there was false play so happened to his otten?