Feb. 3, 1947
I hope you can spare one copy for myself as the one I sent to the office was the only copy I had typed, and it is mixed up a bit in its paging. I am an awful typist as the girl said when her boss proposed to her. 'That's nothing,' said he, 'it wasn't even in my thoughts.' So there. The best of everything to you. May the winter be tender to you.