Dart feels a little cheated that his birthday brought no mail from anyone. He blames the mail service – not his correspondents.
There’s a discussion about film; he got a roll back from the developer and invites Dot to check out the pictures when she’s at his folks’ house. He was able to secure three rolls of black and white film in town, so he’s not as bad off as he thought he’d be. He hopes there are some sunny days before their cameras are confiscated at the Canal so he can get some good “sea and me” photos with the color film Dot sent him.
He was surprised to get $33 in his pay envelope today. That gives him a little extra cash to spend while he’s in Panama. If I had to guess, I’d say most of his pocket money will go toward film and food.
The rumor mill is rampant on board the Craig, just as it always is immediately prior to a ship’s sailing. A South American cruise or Atlantic Ocean/US East coast duty. Wherever the Craig takes him, he hopes Dot will take heart from the fact that they can never be more than 8,000 miles apart.
“I love you always, my Darling. Let’s put out the lights and sit by the fire a while before we go to bed.”
# # #
It’s a sweetly sentimental letter from Dot tonight. Ellie just left on a blind date with “Tip,” who has received the seal of approval from everyone in the house. It looked for a while like he’d be a no-show because he was supposed to be there at 6:00 and wasn’t able to find the little berg of Kent until 7:15. It wasn’t until 10:30 last night that Ellie found out she had a date. At that point, all the girls in the house pulled out all the stops to get her ready. “She washed her hair last night and I had to brush it while she sat in front of the heater. By combining the best of our best outfits, we managed to dress her like a model, but so help me, if she gets a run in my nylons, I’ll burst!”
She finally heard from her mother regarding Dart’s “hefty” letter, and the response was just as she expected it to be. “And so, this puts the problem right back into our laps, which is of course exactly where it should be considering it is our problem. I wish I could think up some really good ideas on the subject, but all I know is that I want to be your wife soon, and will do everything possible to help make that dream become a reality.”
Here, Dot writes a lovely description of a winter walk she took on campus. It’s the kind of writing she so admires from Dart, and I’d say she does a masterful job herself. “Tonight I went for a short walk by myself hoping maybe I’d get an inspiration (about the wedding date question.) The night is certainly an inspiring one. The wind made my face feel like a pin cushion, but the feeling was an enjoyable one. The moon and stars were out in all their glory, leaving just enough space for a suggestion of clouds, adding a touch of real winter to the atmosphere. This is the kind of night that makes me want to walk for hours hand in hand with you. The kind of night where talk would be almost sacrilegious – when a tender look or a gentle squeeze of the hand might accomplish the same thing. The wind, trying at first to seem harsh and unfriendly, gradually comes to like having you around for the evening and puts itself out to make you understand its sole purpose now is to protect you. The tingling sensation that passes through your body keeps you constantly refreshed although your body is limp with awe at the beauty of it all.”
“Although tonight doesn’t remotely resemble the rainy night we drove out from New York, it reminded me of it in some way. I was actually glad the car broke down because we had so much fun sitting there at the gas station singing every song we could think of. Gee, that was fun. I remember how Cynthia kept looking at me and gave me little winks of approval. I know she thinks I’ve got a much better man than I deserve, and since my argument wouldn’t stand up five minutes, I’ve never questioned her opinion.”
She tells Dart she’s going over to the monthly social dance on campus tomorrow night, mostly so Janie will go. Besides, she wants to learn the newest dance steps. She also reports that the girls in the house had cake and ice cream and sang “Happy Birthday” in Dart’s honor tonight. She’d hoped she could write four pages tonight, but all she can seem to do is dream about that day some 520 days away.
She surely hopes she’ll be able to hear his voice via a phone call before he leaves, and tell him how much she loves him. She’ll stay home tomorrow night hoping to catch his call.