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October 31, 1947 Dear folks, Came in to find May with a pillow on her knee, "I feel like a ballet dancer doing the swan's death song." It's out of hinge. We brought her blueberry muffins and scrambled egg and she breakfasted like a queen. Well, Jean and I both woke up this morning and didn't get up; the job now is to relax and wait: we both have exams this morning. We have jointly ordered the Harvard Crimson. I hang my head in shame when I read the News now. Those boys are reporting the things they are interested in vitally and we---an apathetic Student Government--incidently [[sic]], I am a member of that now by lot, and wrote up a story to blow up its last meeting, which was in my mind a flop but out of which was dragged by valiant president Sue Ehrenthiel the recommendation that N S A be adopted--I'll explain about that later--, an apathetic commuters' column, well, we are just mis-directed, I guess. Life is too full to report fully right now. Must gallop--rain--to English in a second. Don't believe Dick is either of the two vile races you mentioned, tho I do think race can be a bogy-man at times. As a matter of fact, he is too good for me. Marion will be up against conditions as bad as Ina's, I guess. Maybe will write later. Go. Love, Doris