Dart’s day has been less productive than it should have been, so he’s writing this letter early with plans to study after dinner. He wonders if Dot may have written him and airmail letter that was on the plane that crashed in NYC. (Apparently he hasn’t heard much from her lately.)

With his purchase of a second pair of trousers today, all that’s left on his shopping list is a pair of slippers and a few items at the drug store. He’ll only need to dip into their savings account once more when he buys the round-trip train ticket to Greenwich.

He resumes the letter later that night with the news that a radio repairman just returned the innards of the big family radio this evening.  Because the family had been without a radio for so long, they had to sit for a while listening to beautiful music. That music, and the brilliant full moon, swelled his chronic sense of loneliness to an acute longing for his bride. Oh, how many songs they’ve heard and how many moons they’ve gazed at while they were separated by too many miles! He thought that tonight’s moon is nearly as bright as the one that shone over Saipan the night he read Dot’s letter in which she said “yes,” and bound them together for all the moons that will follow this one.