"You write a fine letter, your intelligence is of the high Britton standard. . . . I will have no doubt you will make good from the very start."
It pleased me immensely to read, "I like your spirit and determination. It is like I have always imagined you to be." Like he had always imagined me to be. Then he had thought about me! Even speculated as to what I was like! ". . . I shall rejoice to note your success," he wrote.
"I knew you had gone out to contest with the world and win your way, but I had no detailed knowledge . . ." Why, there was the implication that he had wondered, had perhaps even wanted detailed knowledge and of course hadn't dared to betray his interest! Wonderful that he had thought about me!
He expected to be in New York within the next ten days and, he said, might definitely advise me in advance of his coming, and again he assured me, "It will be a pleasure to look you up."
I liked the last line of his letter. ". . . always know of . . . my very genuine personal interest in your good fortune."
A skylark amid the clouds could not have been happier than I during the intervening days between my receipt of this letter and the arrival of its author. I would often speak sharply to myself when occasionally I touched earth long enough to realize the source of my joy and light-heartedness, "Don't make a perfect fool of yourself, now, Nan. He hasn't said anything which actually means much . . . and naturally he would take a fatherly interest in any girl who might seek help from him . . ." But my spirits would not be downed! I talked to the birds. I arose earlier than usual to stand and gaze out of my window and dream. I examined my face carefully in the mirror. I planned exactly what I should wear. My Chicago benefactor had recently sent me $50 with which I had purchased a new gray tailored suit, and I would wear a dark blue sailor hat, the crown covered with grey veiling.
