Dart’s letter is a single page, four short paragraphs with almost no news. He asked her if she’d ever seen those cartoons when a guy was painting a floor and painted himself into a corner. She would have laughed if she’d seen him and his buddies almost do that exact same thing today. For awhile they thought they really were trapped, but then someone pointed out there was a hatch above them through which they could exit. See the advantages of living on a ship instead of in a traditional house?

The other ships around them have been getting mail every day, but the Haggard hasn’t had a delivery in four days. The injustice seems to bother Dart almost as much as not getting the mail.

He can think of nothing else to say, except that he loves her very much, and he can’t even think of a new way to say that.

With Mr. Goldstein in New York City learning what the other Franklin Simon’s has going on that they need in Greenwich, Dot is running the Young Men’s department by herself. It’s not too challenging because there have been almost no customers.

She announces that Spring is on its way and it’s much too nice a day to spend it all indoors. From her third floor window at work, she has a nice view of the countryside. In a paragraph that rivals Dart’s for its descriptive power, she tells of the trees that seem to be stretching toward the sky, ready to burst into bloom. The sky is an intense, brilliant blue strewn with light clouds that resemble careless brush strokes.

Now and then a plane flies overhead and Dot says she can’t help but pity the poor wretched souls who are terrorized by the sight and sound of airplanes. In equal measure, she’s grateful that those who live in America don’t have to be fearful of such things.

A sudden influx of customers arrives and she hastily promises to finish the letter later.

When she continues, it’s already March 10. She received her first letter from Dart today in over three weeks. It was that heart-wrenching masterpiece he wrote on Valentine’s Day. She’s happy he thought of her on this special day and tells him she re-read the poem he wrote her a year ago. She liked it even more this year. She says that being loved by him is all the Valentine she needs. “Your letter did get here and so will all the others you write, so forget to worry about that. I hope there won’t have to be too many more letters before I see you again.” She says that each letter seems to bring a little bit of him with it, so she prays he’ll continue to write whenever he has the chance.

She’s sorry to hear about his seasickness and worries there’ll be nothing left of him if that’s still happening. She says that although she’s never been seasick, she has some idea of what he’s going through and she has huge sympathy for him. Although she’s too modest or discreet to say so, I suspect she’s alluding to her monthy cramps which just about knock her off her feet.  In those days, I doubt there were many young women who would mention anything to do with menstrual issues to a male who was not her husband. How different from today when so many young people share every detail of their bodily functions through very public modes of communication!

She begs him not to apologize when he doesn’t write. She knows he has a very good reason not to. But she feels guilty. With no brass to polish, salt water spray to dodge, or battles to fight, she still doesn’t write as much as she should or would like to. She tells him that last night was the first in many that she was actually able to sit down for dinner. Usually, she races home from FS, grabs a bowl of cereal, and rushes off to her evening gig. Last night, she had a feast when she babysat at the Miller’s and tonight, she’s serving and cleaning at a huge estate 10 miles outside Greenwich. She’s ” just a lowly maid,” but ever since the money machine in their basement broke down, she’s had to resort to all sorts of indignities like work to obtain “the filthy green stuff.”

Last night Mrs. Miller gave Dot her bicycle as a graduation gift. Dot says it’s a real honey, with balloon tires and everything. Dot plans to fix it up and paint it so she can get plenty of use out of it this Spring. Mr. Miller has offered Dart the use of his bike if he gets to Greenwich during bike-riding season.

She was thrilled to get another letter from Dart today, written on March 1. It reminded her of the times when she’d hear from him nearly every day. She was so happy to see that his spirits seemed much improved since the Valentine’s letter. I know he wrote several times between February 14 and March 1. I wonder when those other letters will find their way to her.

She tells him that she, too, has often had the sensation that he is standing right beside her. It’s a hard realization that he’s not there, but it somehow makes them seem closer than the thousands of miles that separate them.

She’s eager to see his new plans for their house. Everyone she tells about them – which is everyone she knows – thinks they sound perfect. The other night, Nancy Lou asked if she’d received any new sketches.

Although it’s often nearly 1:00 before she gets ready for bed, she vows that she is not going to sleep this next week until she has written Dart at least a short note. It’s a challenge, but it also makes her feel better when she “chats” with him regularly.

“You’re in my thoughts every minute I’m awake and in my dreams when I sleep. Please finish this war in a hurry and come home. I’ll let you put a whole tray of ice cubes down my back. Oh, what am I saying?!”

She ends with a simple “Thank you for ‘being.'”