I wish we dared to say more. But who knows, maybe that time will come sooner than I think!
Once or twice a day he gives me a knowing glance, I wink back, and we're both happy.
It seems crazy to talk about his being happy, and yet I have the overwhelming feeling he thinks the same way I do. Yours, Anne M. Frank
SATURDAY, MARCH 4, 1944
Dear Kitty, This is the first Saturday in months that hasn't been tiresome, dreary and boring. The reason is Peter.
This morning as I was on my way to the attic to hang up my apron, Father asked whether I wanted to stay and practice my French, and I said yes.
We spoke French together for a while and I explained something to Peter, and then we worked on our English.
Father read aloud from Dickens, and I was in seventh heaven, since I was sitting on Father's chair, close to Peter.
I went downstairs at quarter to eleven. When I went back up at eleven-thirty, Peter was already waiting for me on the stairs.
We talked until quarter to one. Whenever I leave the room, for example after a meal,
and Peter has a chance and no one else can hear, he says, “Bye, Anne, see you later.”
Oh, I'm so happy! I wonder if he's going to fall in love with me after all?
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