ith volumes
written, but nothing mailed.

We've just had one of those miserable deceiving nights--cold and frosty
when you go to bed, and warm and lifeless when you wake in the dark,
smothered under a mountain of blankets. By the time I had removed my own
extra covers and plumped up my pillow and settled comfortably, I thought
of those fourteen bundled-up babies in the fresh-air nursery. Their
so-called night nurse sleeps like a top the whole night through. (Her
name is next on the list to be expunged.) So I roused myself again, and
made a little blanket removing tour, and by the time I had finished I
was forever awake. It is not often that I pass a NUIT BLANCHE; but when
I do, I settle world problems. Isn't it funny how much keener your mind
is when you are lying awake in the dark?

I began thinking about Helen Brooks, and I planned her whole life over
again. I don't know why her miserable story has taken such a hold over
me. It's a disheartening subject for an engaged girl to contemplate.
I keep saying to myself, what if Gordon and I, when we really get
acquainted, should change our minds about liking each other? The fear
grips my heart and wrings it dry. But I am marrying him for no reason in
the world except affection. I'm not particularly ambitious. Neither his
position nor his money ever tempted me in the least. And certainly I am
not doing it to find my life work, for in order to marry I am having
to give up the work that I love. I really do love this work. I go about
planning and planning their baby futures, feeling that I'm constructing
the nation. Whatever becomes of me in after life, I am sure I'll be
the more capable for having had this tremendous experience. And it IS a
tremendous experience, the nearness to humanity that an asylum brings.
I am learning so many new things every day that when each Saturday night
comes I look back on the Sallie of last Saturday night, amazed at her
ignorance.

You know I am developing a funny old characteristic; I am getting to
hate change. I don't like the prospect of having my life disrupted. I
used to love the excitement of volcanoes, but now a high level plateau
is my choice in landscape. I am very comfortable where I am. My desk
and closet and bureau drawers are organized to suit me; and, oh, I dread
unspeakably the thought of the upheaval that is going to happen to me
next year! Please don't imagine that I don't care for Gordon quite as
much as any man has a right to