January 2nd

Dearest (I suppose) Emily,

Do you have any idea how many pubs Jacks and I had to hit New Year's Eve to find those dancers? I had a roaring headache all day yesterday, and then up early today to gather those terpsichorean rosebuds from the night before. You sound strangely more like your mother every day. I even suspect it may be she who has been sending me these acid notes, so little of the Emily I fondly remember do I find here.

By the way, my mercurial little kumquat, I think you would be most particularly luscious joining the ladies in a bar or two, musical or spirited.

Hoping that you'll have a change of heart--really!
Edward

P.S. If you don't cut out this incessant carping, I shall seek auditory revenge of the most droning kind.