“We’re both in the same boat now, or should I say train,” begins Dot’s first letter of the day. “How I wish it were in the same train, instead of two different ones taking us farther apart.” She and Dart are obviously in perfect sync with each other.

She’s about to pull into Grand Central Station, having spent a restful night. The girl sharing her seat noticed how blue Dot was, and told her to stretch out and try to sleep. Dot has no idea where that girl spent the night, but she’s grateful for the kindness of strangers.

She hopes Dart appreciated the fact that both she and his mother did their best not to cry when they said good-bye at the station Friday morning. They sure let it all go in the car ride home, however.

At last, she reveals why she thought he wouldn’t know her when he saw her this time; she’s lost 15 pounds since they saw each other in July. His folks noticed right away and the girls at school “nearly fell over.” She guesses he either didn’t notice, which is fine, or he did notice and it makes no difference how he feels about her, which is also fine.

She has high hopes for the pictures they took – looking forward to showing him and his family off to her family and friends.

With two hours to go before Greenwich, she estimates she’ll be home in time to join her family for Sunday breakfast.

“God bless you wherever you go, Darling, and bring you back safe, very soon. I love you with all my heart.”

Later that evening, she writes again, telling Dart she tried to sing along this evening as her mother played the piano, but she burst into tears at the thought of him being so far away. “I don’t know how I’m going to live without seeing you for God knows how long. I’ll manage to survive, but that’s about all.”

She confides that every time she thinks of him in his Case cover-alls, working on his train set in the basement, she curses herself, wondering why she didn’t cross the room and squeeze him as hard as she wanted to. She vows to read up on trains so she can talk more intelligently about them when next they meet.

This morning’s mail brought one of his long letters sent from Treasure Island. It was one where he was eaten by worry over the state of her health. “I hope I have convinced you not to worry about the operation. I’m going to see the specialist sometime this week and will tell you what I find out but it doesn’t do any good to cross bridges till we come to them so let’s both forget about worrying. It would take lots more than a little operation to hurt me.”

Dot and her mom walked to the stationery story this afternoon and saw they were selling “sweet potatoes.” Ruth wouldn’t let Dot buy one, reminding her that Christmas was coming. Dot says she’ll practice so much that she’ll be an expert when she sees him again.

She bought a large scrapbook which she intends to call “A Blind Date Isn’t Always a Mistake,” by Dart G. Peterson, Jr. and Dorothy Chamberlain. She hopes he doesn’t object to using his name. She’ll fill it with photos, souvenirs and narrative about how they met and how much fun they have when they’re together. She hopes to finish it while he’s still in California so she can ship it to him for editing. “I thought that in the future, when people ask us why we’re so happy, it would be fun to show them how it all started.” I’m impressed by how she fills every paragraph with her plans for the future. It’s obvious these two are committed to each other with no holds barred.

“Dad’s calling me for supper (which I don’t want), so I must close.”