When he said I always helped him when his parents were arguing, I was tremendously happy;
it was one step toward making me believe in his friendship.
I asked him yesterday what he'd do if there were a dozen Annes who kept popping in to see him.
His answer was: “If they were all like you, it wouldn't be so bad.”
He's extremely hospitable, and I think he really likes to see me.
Meanwhile, he's been working hard at learning French, even studying in bed until ten-fifteen.
Oh, when I think back to Saturday night, to our words, our voices, I feel satisfied with myself for the very first time;
what I mean is, I'd still say the same and wouldn't want to change a thing, the way I usually do.
He's so handsome, whether he's smiling or just sitting still. He's so sweet and good and beautiful.
I think what surprised him most about me was when he discovered that I'm not at all the superficial, worldly Anne I appear to be,
but a dreamer, like he is, with just as many troubles!
Last night after the dinner dishes, I waited for him to ask me to stay upstairs. But nothing happened; I went away.
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