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feeling way better by the minute. The worse I felt, the more nervous I felt. I felt chilly and my mind began to work overtime picturing pneumonia coupled with a fatal throat infection. Willie never looked so good to me as when I saw her standing there on the platform and we drove straight to Dr. Delaney's. He was reassuring in his calm, quiet way - painted my throat, said he could see it [[underlined]] had [[/underlined]] been [[underlined]] very [[/underlined]] sore, gave me some sulfamilamide tablets, and all in all made me feel 100% better. It was the nearest to being at peace I had been since Wednesday night.

Erie, Pa.
Saturday, Jan. 6, 1940.
Delaney lent me further reassurance this morning when I visited him, reported progress.  Talked to Whitey - told him I couldn't go to Sch'dy for the talks Tuesday. Still further I had to turn down a trip to New York Monday to talk to the British Purchasing Commission about a bid on 250 tanks, the first fruit of my campaign with Shenhan.  While I was at the doctor's, St. L. called up to inquire for me and phoned again later in the day before I had called him to talk. I think more and more of him as I see more of him. I seem to be improving slowly. The glands in my throat are badly swollen but Delaney showed no concern over them - just comments - "Yes - those glands", and said or did no more. Mother of course, was terribly upset last night when I got home - doesn't know I flew to P'burgh. She is upset too because she just received word of Aunt Sally Patrick's death. She is also disturbed because I can't go to Syracuse with her Monday and we are calling Monday off entirely.