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Stop iewuna
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A Letter For Betty
{Continued from page 27)
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deep, hurting ache. Her face was as young and attractive as Jim's — and she had a great capacity for friendliness — but she wasn't using it. There was something about her that shut out friendship. She closed her face the way you lock a diary.
£ |NLY when I talked about the ma^-* chine and how she would use it in her work could I get her excited. I thought then that she was determined to have a career and that she had shut away other desires, but that was hard to belj§ve. She was far too young and attractive. I was convinced of that, but I had no proof until I read a sad little note which wasn't meant for me.
Here's the way it happened. Because Betty was so excited about that teletype, she wanted to practice in every spare minute she could find. I told her to signal the practice board at the telephone company, and that I would disconnect her machine so that she could practice. That "disconnect" was what confused her. She took that to mean that anything she wrote wouldn't go through the machine — that she could just sit there and type the way you do on a typewriter and that no one would see what she wrote. But that isn't the way it worked. What she wrote on her machine was transmitted to my machine at the telephone company.
I was amazed when she poured out her emotions in writing — but I know why she did. You can keep things bottled up inside of yourself just so long and then you've got to let them come out. Some girls confide in their parents or their best friends. But other people — sensitive people who hate to talk about their troubles — pour out their emotions in another way. Betty poured hers out in writing. One day I was amazed to see a jumbled, heart-crum
pling message come into my machine — a message that read something like this:
"Don, my darling, how could you do it when I loved you so? Every dream I dreamed when you were over there was about you and our life together after you came home. How could you marry a girl in England and bring her back here — here to the life we had planned for us? I'll never get over it — never — and Don, Don, Don — I loved you so."
I didn't know what to do. I knew that Betty would be embarrassed if she knew that her pathetic little confession had come over the teletype to my practice board. But I didn't want her to write any more. This was like reading someone's private mail — only worse. A letter is intended for at least . one other's eyes. This was like a personal diary — intended for no eyes but Betty's. I finally knew that I would save her embarrassment if I said nothing. There wasn't anything to do but keep still. But I did a lot of thinking. This, then, explained Betty's cautious wariness. She was on her guard against hurt.
I don't know when it was that I got the idea of bringing Jim and Betty together. It was one night at dinner, I guess, when I studied Jim's closed face and was struck by the similarity between his personality and Betty's. I wondered why I hadn't thought of bringing them together before. They were so right for each other — so attractive and clean and young. The whole thing looked like a "natural." So the next day I invited Betty out to spend all-day Sunday with us, and I encouraged Jim to stay home.
I don't know what I expected. Certainly not that they would fall into each other's arms. But I expected more than cool politeness and almost a complete lack of interest. Try as I would, I
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Information Please experts Kieran, Fadimari
and Adams oil up the cash register for another NBC season.
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