I can't tell you, dear, how much I think of
you. It seems to me that you're running a sort of undercurrent
in my thoughts all day long.
You will hardly credit it, Linda, but a few days ago I drove a
car through the thickest traffic, up a steep hill, and round a
curve. I did it, but practically collapsed when it was over.
The why of it was this: I think I told you before that in the
offices of Nicholson and Snow there is a man who is an
understanding person. He is the junior partner and his name is
Eugene Snow. I happened to arrive at his desk the day I came for
my instructions and to make my plans for entering their contest.
He was very kind to me and went out of his way to smooth out the
rough places. Ever since, he makes a point of coming to me and
talking a few minutes when I am at the office or when he passes
me on my way to the drafting rooms where I take my lessons. The
day I mention I had worked late and hard the night before. I had
done the last possible thing to the plans for my dream house. At
the last minute, getting it all on paper, working at the
specifications, at which you know I am wobbly, was nervous
business; and when I came from the desk after having turned in my
plans, perhaps I showed fatigue. Anyway, he said to me that his
car was below. He said also that he was a lonely person, having
lost his wife two years ago, and not being able very frequently
to see his little daughter who is in the care of her grandmother,
there were times when he was hungry for the companionship he had
lost.
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