《FRIDAY, MARCH 3, 1944》

FRIDAY, MARCH 3, 1944

My dearest Kitty,

When I looked into the candle tonight, I felt calm and happy again. It seems Grandma is in that candle, and it's Grandma who watches over and protects me and makes me feel happy again. But. . . there's someone else who governs all my moods and that's. . . Peter. I went to get the potatoes today, and while I was standing on the stairway with my pan full, he asked, "What did you do during the lunch break?"

I sat down on the stairs, and we began to talk. The potatoes didn't make it to the kitchen until five-fifteen (an hour after I'd gone to get them). Peter didn't say anything more about his parents; we just talked about books and about the past. Oh, he gazes at me with such warmth in his eyes; I don't think it will take much for me to fall in love with him.

He brought the subject up this evening. I went to his room after peeling potatoes and remarked on how hot it was. "You can tell the temperature by looking at Margot and me, because we turn white when it's cold and red when it's hot." I said.

"In love?" he asked.

"Why should I be in love?" It was a pretty silly answer (or, rather, question).

"Why not?" he said, and then it was time for dinner.

What did he mean? Today I finally managed to ask him whether my chatter bothered him. All he said was,

"Oh, it's fine with me!" I can't tell how much of his reply was due to shyness.

Kitty, I sound like someone who's in love and can talk about nothing but her dearest darling. And Peter is a darling. Will I ever be able to tell him that? Only if he thinks the same of me, but I'm the kind of person you have to treat with kid gloves, I know that all too well.

And he likes to be left alone, so I don't know how much he likes me. In any case, we're getting to know each other a little better. I wish we dared to say more. But who knows, maybe that time will come sooner than I think!

Once or twice a day he gives me a knowing glance, I wink back, and we're both happy. It seems crazy to talk about his being happy, and yet I have the overwhelming feeling he thinks the same way I do.

Yours, Anne M. Fran

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