Dear Kitty,
Harry visited us yesterday to meet my parents. I had bought a cream cake, sweets, tea and fancy biscuits, quite a spread, but neither Harry nor I felt like sitting stiffly side by side indefinitely, so we went for a walk, and it was already ten past eight when he brought me home. Daddy was very cross and thought it was very wrong of me because it is dangerous for Jews to be out after eight o'clock, and I had to promise to be in ten to eight in future.
Tomorrow I’ve been invited to his house. My girlfriend Jopie teases me the whole time about Harry. I’m honestly not in love, oh, no, I can surely have boyfriends – no one thinks anything of that – but one boy friend – or beau, as Mother calls him, seems to be quite different.
Harry went to see Eva one evening and she told me that she asked him, “Who do you like best, Fanny or Anne?” He said, “It’s nothing to do with you!” But when he left (they hadn’t chatted together any more the whole evening),”Now listen, it’s Anne, so long and don’t tell a soul.”
And like a flash he was gone.
It’s easy to see that Harry is in love with me, rather fun for a change. Margot would say, “Harry is a decent lad.” I agree, but he is more than that. Mummy is full of praise: a good-looking boy, a well-behaved, nice boy. I’m glad that the whole family approve of him. He likes them too, but he thinks my girl friends are very childish and he’s quite right.
Your’s Anne
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