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November 24, 1944

A strange world we live in! The most welcome sound is the smooth and easy drone of our own planes, the most eagerly awaited sight the silver of those planes flashing toward us in the early morning sunshine. I wish, though, they’d wait until I get London B.B.C, and a second cup of coffee, but who are we to be choosy? Even the “Lone Ranger’’—he was all alone—who showed up before five the other morning, making us all dash downstairs with the kids, didn’t annoy us too much. We loved him, but he didn’t stay long enough. He dropped his load quite close, but we could not decide where.