Friday Night

Dearest Sweetheart;

Stayed over in San Francisco and after having dinner at the Women’s Athletic Club, Leona and I went to hear the Budapest String Quartet at the Art Museum. I enjoyed the quartet more this time than the last, which was about six years ago.

Leona says I may sleep all day tomorrow if I wish; she goes to work at eight on Saturdays. It’s so terribly quiet over here that one feels far removed from the city; it’s such a contrast to the usual racket on College Avenue. So far my looking for a place over here has been unsuccessful, and it will only be a stroke of luck if I accidently locate what I want. As you have heard for a month now, commuting is really a trial and I’m tired to start my day, which isn’t easy at all! I’m more in love with this type of work though as every day goes by; one actually feels that one is offering a truly professional and occasionally lasting service.

Darling, in one of your recent letter you have suspected your wife of a minor misdemeanor!!! – that of a failing to mail her letters as promptly as she writes them; you have hit the nail on the head once more! There are days when I simply forget and I must ask you to sort of overlook that, will you? Gee, I thought that I was busy in school, but I’m afraid that was sort of horseplay to this. More tomorrow about what’s going on around here.

I dreamed about you last night, Berna Lou