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I am writing from a small fishing
Last week I was to have left Isabelle and Jan and gone on down to Italy to join
Edith. But poor Edith writes that the food
shortage in Italy has grown more serious every day. She cannot get enough
to eat, no matter what she pays. She can never get enough bread, and can get no
milk, butter, sugar, cakes or sweets of any kind! So now Edith will have to journey
all the way back to France and we will all go to Paris together. Paris is the only
I am tired of poor food myself, and I wish I could get into the kitchen at home and roast a chicken and make a pie! The food in Paris is delicious, but down here the country has not recovered from the war and provisions are scarce.
P.S. Although I was the one who felt the worst, none of us have been very well down here. Isabelle is languid most of the time, too. I don't know why, for the climate is beautiful. Jan is a wonderful man to travel with—never cross about anything. I don't see how a man can be so patient!