But there is no use to grouch further.

I seem to be born a loser.

Anyway, I haven't 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.