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In order to return some of Clifford's entertainment, we bought a quart of Calvert's Reserve at Augusta and staged a cocktail party for him and Miss Foster in Neil's room before dinner. After a stiff one to start off, stories began to flow - quite decent stories because of Miss F. naturally. I told the one about the Notre Dame football team that went to visit the Pope - stories of that nature. Then Miss Foster told one that was [[underlined]] very [/under-lined]] good all things considered - about the Englishman who met his nephew on the porch of a Paris "house" and said he was there because he preferred "the purple passion of Parisian prostitutes to the dignified acquiescence of your Aunt Prunella" - which showed Miss Foster was no shrinking violet. Finally she excused herself to dress for dinner and the lid was off! Cliff said about three times, "I certainly wish you fellows had come about two weeks ago!"

We took a launch ride over into the northside of the lake in the evening, picking up a party at the Maranacook Inn. They looked Jewish to me but Cliff said they were Italian from Boston. A young girl about 24 sat next to me and she was all for coming to Tallwood later for the evening but her crowd said no so she declined regret-fully and like an ass I told her we'd be over to see them later on. We never went. I think the cocktail party had warped my judgment - I saw only her figure which was a wow! Otherwise she was nothing extra - a Boston shopgirl I think although a good clean looking youngster, Jewish or Italian or what have you. She was the only attractive one of the crowd, so I didn't blame Cliff and Neil for being unenthused. But she was bored - she didn't swim well and there was no beach - she was just aching for a good time - dancing, beer, hilarity - and we could have furnished it.