Here’s one of those letters from Dart that cannot be improved through paraphrasing, so I’ll quote it in its entirety. Just one word of explanation – unnecessary for anyone who knew this young couple, but required in the context of modern sensibilities: In the letter Dart makes two references to trying to talk Dot into “going to bed.” By that he means “It’s late, I’m tired and we both need sleep, so we really should pull ourselves away from each other and go to our separate beds.”

My Darling, I’m so lonesome for you! Of gee, Dot. I haven’t been able to do a thing all day except wish you were here. I kept wishing you were beside me in church today. I awoke, wanting desperately to be able to reach out a few inches and have my arms around you. Ever since I got your letter about me putting my arms around you at the table; and of trying to get you to go to bed, I’ve been thinking of how much I miss you.

Yesterday, up in the park, I wanted you. I wanted to have you with me, enjoying the beautiful clearness of the autumn day, enjoying the beautiful wonders of being in love – as we have done before. I wished for you when I was sitting with the kids, watching the older ones trying to make their airplane fly.

When I got to the brow of the big coasting hill I saw a couple of freshly scrubbed and very happy teenagers, and I had a big lump in my throat. I remembered how happy we had been in our walks up there. They had parked their bikes and were sitting on top of the hill. (The world, too.)

I’ve been thinking of our rides to Kent, and just any-old place, as we would sing or talk, you with your head on my shoulder; or on the warm evenings when we’d drive with the windows and ventilator open to catch the breeze, and you’d get lost whenever I’d go to the West Side one way and return another.

Yes, I’ve been thinking of the times we should have retired, too. I thought how disgusted and exasperated I’d get ’cause you wouldn’t go to bed, and how you were so cute and lovely and desirable that I just couldn’t stay angry more than a couple of minutes.

Oh, Darling, I’ve thought of it all. All the rest. Of the night we came home from the Pops concert. Of the concert by Fred Waring. Of the last night you were here. Of the Sunday evening picnic up at the park, with Mom and Pop. Of the nights when we sat on the couch in the dining room.

Good night, Dot Dearest. If only I could murmur that to you after an evening of lovemaking, then have us go right to sleep, locked in each others arms. I miss you all the time.

On the otherwise blank back page of this steamy letter, Dart draws a goofy little cartoon of two silly-looking people kicking up their heels in a lively dance.

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Well, I spoke too soon when I wrote yesterday that Dot’s letters are always bright and breezy. Today she’s doing a slow burn, and I can hardly blame her.

After church, the aunts and cousins, and a few others sat around the Chamberlain kitchen after dinner, chewing the fat. As the afternoon wore on, Dot simply asked her mother what time she should be ready for Ruth to drive her to New Rochelle to tend Dot R.’s children. Ruth snapped that Dot needn’t be ready at any time and added, “Aren’t you ever going to stop being so selfish and help out somebody else once in a while?”

I hadn’t meant that I didn’t want to go to the Rucquois home, but Mother was ranting so loudly that I couldn’t explain myself. Perhaps she is right. Perhaps I am a selfish individual. But I certainly don’t approve of her methods of trying to change me. No one seemed to mind when El said that helping Dot’s family would be an awful inconvenience, but when I said I’d help if they didn’t mind me getting there late on school nights, they immediately said i was selfish! I’m not blaming Eleanor because she does have a great deal to do and everyone knows she’s not selfish. But to me, the things I do are just as important. My job next year may depend on this course in shorthand and that’s mighty important to me. From now on I think I’ll try being seen and not heard.

Forgive me for unburdening my troubles on you. I feel better for it, but I dare say you don’t. I’ve been wishing all day, and on and off since I returned from Ohio, that we had decided to be married in December. Maybe I can sleep myself into high spirits again. I love you, Dart, and miss you so very, very much.

I’m troubled by how badly Dot’s family sometimes treated her. It’s as though they never bothered to look at the real person behind this fun-loving, sarcastic girl. They didn’t see the sacrifices she made for others, the chores she did without ever being asked, the extra mile she’d go for anyone who needed her help, and how terribly hard she worked. They always tended to favor Eleanor, Dot’s senior by three years. I don’t know if El had been a sickly child or was perceived as having a fragile nature, but they treated her with kindness and sympathy while expecting Dot to be everyone’s work horse. It seems terribly unfair.