absorbed with her own concerns there came
a letter from Marian which Linda read and reread several times; for
Marian wrote:

MY DEAREST PAL:

Life is so busy up San Francisco way that it makes Lilac Valley look in
retrospection like a peaceful sunset preliminary to bed time.

But I want you to have the consolation and the comfort of knowing that I
have found at least two friends that I hope will endure. One is a woman
who has a room across the hall from mine in my apartment house. She is
a newspaper woman and life is very full for her, but it is filled with
such intensely interesting things that I almost regret having made my
life work anything so prosaic as inanimate houses; but then it's my
dream to enliven each house I plan with at least the spirit of home.
This woman--her name is Dana Meade--enlivens every hour of her working
day with something concerning the welfare of humanity. She is a
beautiful woman in her soul, so extremely beautiful that I can't at this
minute write you a detailed description of her hair and her eyes and her
complexion, because this nice, big, friendly light that radiates
from her so lights her up and transfigures her that everyone says how
beautiful she is, and yet I have a vague recollection that her nose is
what you would call a "beak," and I am afraid her cheek bones are too
high for good proportion, and I know that her hair is not always so
carefully dressed as it should be, but what is the difference when
the hair is crowned with a halo? I can't swear to any of these things;
they're sketchy impressions. The only thing I am absolutely sure about
is the inner light that shines to an unbelievable degree. I wish she
had more time and I wish I had more time and that she and I might become
such friends as you and I are. I can't tell you, dear, how much I think
of you. It seems to me that you're running a sort of undercurrent in my
thoughts all day long.

You will hardly credit it, Linda, but a few days ago I drove a car
through the thickest traffic, up a steep hill, and round a curve. I did
it, but practically collapsed when it was over. The why of it was this:
I think I told you before that in the offices of Nicholson and Snow
there is a man who is an understanding person. He is the junior partner
and his name is Eugene Snow. I happened to arrive at his desk the day
I came for my instructions and to make my plans for entering their
contest. He was very kind to me and went out of his way