didn't ought to, and a Bosch bullet got me so that I can't write.
But don't worry at all about me.

I'm too tough for anything the Bosches can do.

To show how little serious it is, they tell me that I'll be conveyed to England in a day or two.

So get hot-water bottles and bath salts ready.
"Your ever loving Leonard." This was good news.

Over the telephone wire we agreed that the letter was a justification of our yesterday's little merrymaking.