Through Her Opera Glasses by Pat Butler

Author:Pat Butler [Last, First name]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-77180-550-6
Publisher: Iguana Books
Published: 2021-11-10T00:00:00+00:00

(Letter continued)

This evening we are quite comfy with a nice warm fire. We are all gathered at our usual Sunday night pursuits: one game of bridge, three writing, and the rest reading. The gramophone is playing of course, but we are having the treat of some lovely music — records belonging to the Belgian girl.

I am enclosing a copy of the Itinerary for Spain — of course subject to change and I’ll send you a list of hotels as soon as possible.

Yesterday afternoon I went in with Henriette, Eldred and the new English girl (who, by the way is awfully nice — a big improvement on the others) to see Notre Dame and a tiny church nearby, St. Julien des Pauvres — one of the oldest in Paris and very quaint. In the evening we went to the Opéra-Comique to see the “Le Jongleur de Notre Dame” — very well sung, but so short! Only from 8 to 10 p.m.!! So they gave a second short opera “La Vie Brive” — an awfully colorful Spanish thing — fairly modern. The girl who sang the heroine was very Spanish-looking and sang beautifully.

When we arrived home a little after midnight, we met Mlle. Jeanne just coming in who announced that the little nephew had arrived about 9 p.m. weighing 7 lbs. “Mother and child doing well!” I think I told you that the other married daughter, had arrived about three weeks ago in anticipation of the event. Of course, everyone is very thrilled and we are to see the baby tomorrow.

Best love,

Betty

Betty received a second letter from Jack. As soon as she read his name on the envelope’s return address, she slipped off to a corner of the drawing room to rip open the envelope. This exciting moment required privacy.

My dear Betty, he wrote, I can’t seem to concentrate on the paper I need to write this evening. It’s about wills and trusts, and I have a pile of books and papers I need to research but I prefer to write to you instead.

Just holding notepaper he had used made him feel nearby. What strong, decisive handwriting, Betty thought. Messy and urgent — like he wrote it in a passion.

He asked her to mail him a photograph of herself — a close-up, if possible. She told Win about their new friendship because talking about him somehow brought him closer. She got a thrill whenever she mentioned his name. Betty decided, I’ll just leave out the romantic feelings that we’re developing. Just pretend we’re good, platonic friends who like to ski, dance, laugh — oh gosh, I’m probably being so obvious.

Once she was back in their bedroom, she hid the envelope in her underwear drawer, along with the short note — How are you doing? May I please write to you? — that she’d received the week before.

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