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首页安妮日记OCTOBER, 1943

OCTOBER, 1943

        SUNDAY, OCtOBER 17, 1943

        Dearest Kitty,

        Mr. Kleiman is back, t pale, a    off to sell some clot is t Mr. van Daan    of money.     ill creating trouble for us: tolen. hief?

        But I alking about tage. Mrs. van D. s and s. Mr. van D.s suit is difficult to sell, aers bike    on t is back again, sinobody ed it.

        But tory doeso o part . In    ts ridiculous.

        t    it and ered t;o Putti" and "darling Kerli" stage of reciliation.

        My mind boggles at ty to endure in t moo resolve anote problem. Mot up plains of    sleep, Mrs. van D. frets and fumes all day long, and Ive gone pletely round to tell you trutimes fet . to take my mind off it is to study, and Ive been doing a lot of t lately.

        Yours, Anne

        FRIDAY, OCtOBER 29,1943

        My dearest Kitty,

        Mr. Kleiman is out again; omac give s peace.    even knoopped bleeding. o tell us    feeling well

        and ime he seemed really down.

        Mr. and Mrs. van D. tles. ted to sell an overcoat and a suit of Mr. van D. s, but o find any buyers. oo high.

        Some time ago Mr. Kleiman alking about a furrier . Its made of rabbit skin, and s for seventeen years. Mrs. van D. got 325 guilders for it, an enormous amount. Sed to keep to buy    took some doing before Mr. van D. could make and t it ely o cover household expenses.

        You t imagiing, stamping of feet and s    on.

        It errifying. My family stood s breat ttom of tairs, in case it mig t. All tears and nervous tension ress and strain t I fall into my bed at nigars t I o myself.

        Im doing fine, except Ive got no appetite. I keep ;Goodness, you look a; I must admit t to keep me in dition: trose, cod-liver oil, bre and calcium. My nerves ofteer of me, especially on Sundays; ts    o me as if it    me intions of t times like t dont matter to me in t. I o room, climb up and doairs and feel like a songbird    ts dark cage. "Let me out, ; a voice    even boto reply anymore, but lie doerrible fear go by more quickly, ime, sis impossible to kill it.

        Yours, Anne
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