[No surviving envelope]

This is my first line to greet you at Abbott Academy, and my last before I sail on Thursday. How I am to get all my packing done etc., with matters at the office still to be tidied up, visits to the dentist, the doctor, the solicitor etc. I don’t know: but every departure is like that. I shall write from Princeton as soon as I can settle to the typewriter, and shall hope to see you within the month. I am not yet sure where I shall be living, but presumably as originally arranged; but I don’t know the address or telephone number.

At this moment, I am simply terrified and feel like a hermit crab starting off on a journey without his shell. And the fear of War only makes me more anxious not to be away from where I belong if it does happen. But I still believe that there will not be war this year. And I do want very much to see you, even though I cannot think that you want to see me.

Merely ‘Institute of Advanced Study, Princeton, New Jersey’ is all the address I can give. The S.S. ‘America’ should dock in New York on the 29th.