lost you
and I still have Dana Meade.

I have nothing else to tell you except that Mr. Snow has waited for me
two evenings out of the week ever since I wrote you, and he has taken
me in his car and simply forced me to drive him for an hour over what
appeals to me to be the most difficult roads he could select. So far
I have not balked at anything but he has had the consideration not to
direct me to the mountains. He is extremely attractive, Linda, and I do
enjoy being with him, but I dread it too, because his grief is so deep
and so apparent that it constantly keeps before me the loss of my own
dear ones, and those things to which the hymn books refer as "aching
voids" in my own life.

But there is something you will be glad to hear. That unknown
correspondent of mine is still sending letters, and I am crazy about
them. I don't answer one now until I have mulled over it two or three
days and I try to give him as good as he sends.

I judge from your letters that you are keeping at least even with
Eileen, and that life is much happier for you. You seem to be
broadening. I am so glad for the friendship you have formed with Donald
Whiting. My mother and Mrs. Whiting were friends. She is a charming
woman and it has seemed to me that in her daughter Louise she has
managed a happy compound of old-fashioned straightforwardness and
unswerving principle, festooned with happy trimmings of all that is best
in the present days. I hope that you do become acquainted with her. She
is older than you, but she is the kind of girl I know you would like.

Don't worry because I have lost again, Linda dear. Today is my blue
day. Tomorrow I shall roll up my sleeves and go at it again with all my
might, and by and by it is written in the books that things will come
right for me. They cannot go wrong for ever. With dearest love,

MARIAN.

Linda looked grim as she finished the letter.

"Confound such luck," she said emphatically. "I do not understand
it. How can a man like Henry Anderson know more about comforts and
conveniences in a home than a woman with Marian's experience and
comprehension? And she has been gaining experience for the past ten
years. That partner of his must be a six-cylinder miracle."

Linda went to the kitchen, because she was in pressing need of someone
to whom to tell her troubles, and there was no one except Katy. What
Katy said was energetic and emphatic, but it comforted Linda, because
she agreed with it and w