Friday P.M.
Oct. 10, 1924

Dear Walter:

Your letter came this morning, and somehow it gave me the queerest feeling. I have read it over six times already and still I can’t quite understand everything you said in it. You don’t know how much I would give for an opportunity to talk with you right now and find out just exactly what you meant.

Of course you understand that I refer to what you said in regard to your lady friend in South Dakota. I want you to understand that I don’t blame you in the least for trying to keep your solemn obligation, and admire you very much for your loyalty to your promise given the father, but I thought you had done everything you could already. Since the young lady and her mother are financially comfortable as you explained to me when you were here – unless you promised the father that you would marry the daughter, I can’t understand what else you can do to fulfill your obligation. Somehow, I was afraid I detected a tone in your letter that might indicate that you were still a little uncertain as to whether or not you really loved her now. If you are, please tell me. I believe every word you say, and you don’t know how much I appreciate your telling me the things you do. I hope you will not ever hesitate to tell me, whether they will hurt my feelings or not, because uncertainty is worse than the cruel facts. Of course you know I understand that there are secrets in lodges, and I wouldn’t think of being so unreasonable as to want you to tell me those.

October 10, 1924

You are not going back to Aberdeen, are you? Every time today that I have thought of the possibility of you going back there and falling in love with the young lady, I have actually gotten weak – and I have been thinking of it (or rather, your letter) all day. It took my appetite, and I just couldn’t get my mind concentrated on my work at the office. I didn’t think I had a spark of jealousy about me, but this letter certainly sounds like it, doesn’t it? I don’t know what it is, but I didn’t know before that I cared so deeply. I want you to know that I don’t feel hard toward you at all, because I don’t.

There are three things that would make me a mighty happy girl to-night, and they are: If I knew you would not go to Aberdeen, if I knew you would not ever fall in love with the young lady from South Dakota, and if I knew positively that nothing would happen to keep you from coming here Christmas.

Walter, I hope you will not think me unreasonable, and hope you will not misunderstand and feel hard toward me for anything I have said in this letter. I just couldn’t help but tell you.

Won’t you please sit right down and write me some kind of a letter right quick?

I don’t mean to be jealous; I don’t mean to be unreasonable; I don’t mean to be – oh, I don’t know what I mean.

Anxiously,
Ina