Everything is going fine, but slow. I was passed to the next solo class
today and will be on my brevet work within a week, so I should be
delighted—but I am as blue as the devil. What I want is to see and talk
with a good, beautiful, splendid, charming American girl.
I am sleeping and eating like a beast. Made a little water color today;
had a few letters from my _marraine_, but no one here has heard from
home for weeks. I am going into town today, just for a change. It would
be easy to get into a rut here. I love these little French pastries, and
fill myself full of them every time I go to Tours. There is one place
where you can get ice cream. Just imagine, and Tours once the capital of
France! There is a great big old twelfth-century castle built by the
Norman lords not far from here. I am going up and see it tomorrow. I
must find some way to get around to these châteaux near here. Perhaps I
shall take a week’s _permission_ after my brevet. If I do not break a
machine I’ll go back to Avord for Nieuport work, but I’m pretty good on
landing, so if luck is with me there will be no difficulty. Robert’s
letter just arrived, telling me of long pants and hoping his brother is
out of the crowd of unclean men.