I had a long talk with Mr. Forsythe today. When I told him I was going away tomorrow he looked sad, and said he should miss me very much. You see it was this way. We met by sheer accident at the silk counter at Field’s. He was matching some silk for his wife, and I was searching for something suitable for a new evening gown. He helped me select an exquisite thing, all pink and silver. I think I overstepped my limit as to price, but I didn’t like to “haggle” when he was standing there. He said I would be the center of attraction wherever I wore that, and some other complimentary trifles, not worth mentioning. By the time we had concluded our purchases it was luncheon hour and he insisted on my going up to the tea-room with him.
He asked me if I would write to him while I was away; that it would be such a pleasure to hear how I was enjoying myself. I gave a reluctant consent after he said, “If you knew how much good it would do me, you would not refuse.”
I wish I knew whether I did right or not.
January 25.
Detroit is such a lovely city and I am having such a royal, good time, that I have neglected thee, my little white-faced friend.
Florence has kept me going every minute. I met a Mr. Ford last night and of all the men I have met since coming here I like him the best. He loves music, poetry and flowers, and we are very congenial.
I have been here two weeks and have not kept my promise to Mr. Forsythe to write. I must do so tonight, so farewell, my friend, for tonight.
February 1.
I received such a delightful letter from Mr. Forsythe this afternoon. Such poetical sentiments, such pen pictures! It was certainly the most beautiful letter I ever received. I wonder what he could have thought of my poor, little missive. Still it is worth something to have inspired such a beautiful reply. I wonder how soon I ought to answer. I should like to get another from him soon, but I wouldn’t have him know it for the world.