This has been the queerest day. Nothing much to do all morning till nearly noon, and then everything piled up and I worked like a sinner till 12. Then this afternoon I prepared for a supervisors meeting. I got all my material outlined, and at four thirty a million things came up and I dashed madly around getting them done. I have to leave the office at five sharp or I don't get your letter written before dinner.
No word from Herschel. I'd hate to tell you what I am thinking of him right now. Why he can't do a little thing like that especially when it's to his and Cele's interests is more than I can see. I suppose it violates his sense of the proprieties- he's so d----ed conventional. If I only knew Woodward at all I'd write to him myself. But I've only just met him. During rushing I was concerned with other and more doubtful prospects.
I wonder if I could have another snap of you and I together- the best one. I'd like awfully to send one to my folks.
Truly if it does not rain for the 11th I'll be terribly disappointed. Because, somehow, that rain is one of my most vivid recollections of our first night together- the rain and the lightning.
I'm going to do something tomorrow that I have put off for a long time. I mentioned something about it once to you- do you remember No, I'm not going to tell you now. In good time you will no, so you needn't coax. You'll know in good time and I want it to be a surprise then. So if you're good at guessing- try that.
Truly I can't understand Herschel's not writing. He promised to write this week- and on top of that there were my two most urgent letters. I think I'll give up all idea of ever writing if my letters don't move my friends to response.
Think I'll blow myself to a movie tonight. Florence Vidor, a favorite of mine, is at The Strand- and I feel the need of excitement. Hope you're being nice to your national visitors- sorry you wouldn't give me preference if I were there.
Did you ever see "Feet of Clay." I've finished the book and it wasn't until the last chapter that I realized that the movie was supposed to have any connection with the story. The hero had his foot injured in France- in the movie a shark but it while he was swimming. And that is absolutely the only resemblance. Movies are good- particularly those taken from novels.
Had rather a funny thing happen to me today. The first experience I've ever had with a weeping woman- I got a big kick out of it. And then a girl swore at the evening chief operator- and she was going around with a face a mile long. I told her she hadn't used her head or she'd have canned the girl on the instant. That made her feel better and unless I miss my guess we'll be a red headed operator short some fine day- because she's the kind that will try it again. And the toll supervisor jumped all over a girl for a boner and the girl refuses to work on toll anymore- but she's working there. I told her she could do a good job and save herself a calling or else take care of it and keep still. Oh a traffic chief's life is a bed of roses. The trouble with women is you never can guess what they're going to do next- you're always four jumps behind.
Maybe that's why I love you- s'pose? Anyway, I do.