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Boston Saturday Sept. 9, 1939. This morning I wondered what I should do today - take a boat trip to Provincetown or look up some friends here in Boston. After breakfast I took a walk on the Common and through the Botanical Gardens trying to decide. I wanted to take the boat trip - a feeling in me that perhaps it would yield some excitement - maybe meet some people - maybe do some drinking on the boat - all that kind of subtle argument. And yet, at least I knew it would be a flop if I went - probably lonely and if I met anyone, they would probably be the type I'd regret associating with. I wandered back across the Common and into the State House thrashing all this out. In the beautiful marble halls of the State House I recalled other days long ago when I walked thru them en route to Shoals. Perhaps that was the thought that finally made me decide to stay in Boston. I had a sort of dull ache in the back of my neck - perhaps I caught cold there on the sleeper. So I went down to South Station to look up Bill Libby to find he had been transferred to New York 5 or 6 months ago - a complete surprise. So I phoned Ernie Bloss and invited him to have dinner with me. Instead he insisted I have dinner with him at the Yacht Club at Marblehead where he lives in the summer. I agreed, knowing he has wanted to do this for some time and he picked me up at the Parker House at 2PM in his Ford coupé, top down. It was a charming drive to Marblehead - in places the ocean was so blue, it was almost violet like the Meditteranean is supposed to be. Marblehead