human
There's nothing special to say since morning except that I have put a reliable man on you know whose trail. But I thought you might like to have a greeting on your way home from the concert, and the real reason is that it's such a pleasure to write to you that I can't help myself anyway. I'm waiting on the corner for Hickey (your driver) to see if there is anything for me tucked behind the seat. Of course it is scarcely possible you had a chance to write while you were home to lunch, but I shall be disappointed just the same if there is nothing there. Queer kind of post-office, isn't it? Here he is----