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150
Tuesday, May 29, 1928

Stardust-

The trip itself has been beautiful.  We went very near to the Azores.

Sware, gaunt rocks that rise
From out the sea and gape
At birds and rains and clouds on high!
Do full [[??]] stay [[strikethrough]] with you [[/strikethrough]] there to miss the cries
In worlds of Man — is it escape
Or simply love for sea and sky?

Then the coast of Portugal, gaunt and craggy with pirate-like caves and foam on the rocks.  Rocks shaded by sun and wind and rain and sea to curious reeds, browns, greys, and oranges.  Clean white light-houses and monasteries.

Nights when there seem to be three times as many stars — A moon that is steadily growing — the milky way — Oily moon-path on the water.  Phosphorus.  Foam whiter than white on the black water.

The night before Portugal when Charles and Jack and I went to the bow and Charles took my hand was it real affection or solace?  I like him so much as a friend.  I honestly believe he could be a good friend.  I'm sure he will be an excellent doctor.  Going down to the cabin, getting into bed;  getting up and dressed and settled on top deck with Charles and Frances, a rather futile, beautiful Southern girl, with all the advantages


151
Wednesday, May 30, 1928

and disadvantages of a Southerner.  Slowly the stars disappeared and the orange glow came behind the grey-green Spanish coast, making dimmer the lights from light-houses and more distinct the coast and boats.  The coolness of the breezes and the school of dolphins out for morning exercise.  Finally the sun, brilliant, gold, gleaming, round as it came up and lit the water all the way to the African coast, splendidly lighting the browns and tans.  Queer purple clouds over Africa.  Gibralter.  Strong.  Powerful.  Massive.  Upness.  The Insurance Agency.  The men in little row boats, who, looking perfectly, sent fruits of various colors in baskets up to the passengers.  Algeaias [[??]] - white and gleaming and steeples.  Then the Mediterranean — softly blue-half-breezas [[??]] — sereneness.

Bob was more than darling about saying good-bye.  Book, telegram, orchids — and his good-bye.  I can hardly wait until we get back so that I can go to Placid.  I want so much to see him.  Does he miss me — or at least remember me?

The honey-mooners.  "I think Chartreuse is one of the most beautiful cathedrals" —
The Washets —