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Friday, April 24, 1953--NEW HOPE, PA.-- By this time you had begun to write to me about your work and I felt very priveleged that you would share these things with me and let me know about what you were thinking and doing. And you had written me more about Sampe and your reservations, but after all, if you felt reservations they had to be about something--and they were apparently about "us" and you had begun to want a-line to be important in your life.

The day crawled and then I was at Mother's and you appeared and it was absolutely marvelous being in eachother's arms and knowing we were going off together as "Mr. and Mrs. Saarinen" and no initial "L" on my suitcase or on my soul. I don't know how we ever got to leave Mother's, but we did. And as we stood in the garage waiting for the car, we talked about how much nicer it was waiting around with someone. And then we were off driving for the first time...and we talked about Huntington Hartford and what we were both doing and we were really becoming companions and friends and partners as well as lovers. There was dinner in the diner and I loved you very much and couldn't believe the miracle of being there. And then you told me very straight and honestly about Sampe and Lily and about getting a divorce maybe but not daring to trust yourself and maybe being sensible and staying unmarried a year if you did get a divorce, but, you said, as we settled down for a drink in the "world's best god-damned inn," but, you said, "if these things weren't true, I can't see a reason in the world why you wouldn't be a marvellous wife for me." And I couldn't see a reason in the world why you wouldn't be a marvellous husband for me...

And then-despite physical and physiological difficulties we made love and began to feel married and that night you first mentioned the wonderful phrase "clauses of caution."

Saturday, April 25, 1953--NEW HOPE, PA.-- The sun was shining outside, but we kept the shade down (and you justifiably told me the story of the [[strikethrough]] m [[/stikethrough]] man who went up with it) and we began to talk of what --c-of-c's--life would be like for me in Bloomfield Hills and we read the article in the Magazine. And then we set off for Bertoia's and the world was shining and so were our hearts. And it was nice at Bertoias, watching you and him talk together, and then at the kitchen table with the nice charts you drew of nature and architecture and the plans of the chapel and watching you mind work and his, and then the walk and you , exhausted, but carrying the children, and then the restuarant Bertoia had suggested and both of us not wanting that, but having cocktails there and feeling tired and happy. And then getting lost--and me not so hot on the maps at night--but you were kind and patient and finally we did find a restuarant and we did have dinner and it was comfortable being two of us and in love.

Sunday, April 27, 1953--NEW HOPE, PA. AND NEW YORK, N.Y.--And that morning was lots of c-of-c talk, and some of the questions which later caused the essay, and I think we both knew subconsciously then that the c-of-c's were a safegaurd but that we really loved eachother in a growing and wonderful and potentially-married way and we had breakfast in the world's best god-damned inn and then set off and talked-- c-of-c's about going to Japan sometime together--and of going to Finland. And after that weekend I knew that forever I would never believe [[strikethrough]] me [[/strikethrough]] you when you said you weren't generous--for you were--(and I know since that I was right)--and there was a lovely, radiant, promising future ahead for both of us together. We stopped at the Plaza and you were distraught and we were both tired, for the pace had been fast, but it had been a wonderfully rewarding, happy and creative time together even if we didn't talk as much about the Cleveland speech as we should have. And then I drove you to the airport and there wasn't anyone we knew looking and we were sad at saying good-bye, sad, I think now, because  I guess we knew that we wanted to be together but that there were many, many mountains still to cross...

But soon after that you asked Lily ("molasses") for a divorce and you told me your arms were wide open for me....