who understands you, and who doesn't have to be shared with anyone else! Yours, Anne M. Frank
At the moment, Mother's grouching at me again; she's clearly jealous because I talk to Mrs. van Daan more than to her.
What do I care! I managed to get hold of Peter this afternoon, and we talked for at least forty-five minutes.
He wanted to tell me something about himself, but didn't find it easy. He finally got it out, though it took a long time.
I honestly didn't know whether it was better for me to stay or to go. But I wanted so much to help him!
I told him about Bep and how tactless our mothers are.
He told me that his parents fight constantly, about politics and cigarettes and all kinds of things.
As I've told you before, Peter's very shy, but not too shy to admit that he'd be perfectly happy not to see his parents for a year or two.
“My father isn't as nice as he looks,” he said. “But in the matter of the cigarettes, Mother's absolutely right.”
I also told him about my mother. But he came to Father's defense. He thought he was a “terrific guy.”
Tonight when I was hanging up my apron after doing the dishes, he called me over and asked me not to say anything downstairs
about his parents' having had another argument and not being on speaking terms.
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