Resolution

Laura Cabot. It is January 2, 1942, the second day of a new year. As I speak these words, even I myself can't believe that what has happened is true. It began only a few short hours ago, less than 48 to be exact. And yet it has changed everything for me, even life itself, I must tell someone. And so, I'm telling you, it all began night before last,

New Year's Eve. A number of us had braved the deep snow and cold north wind to go out the old Cabot Place north of Quincy to see the new year in. There were four of us, Ed and Helen Richards, who had just been married a year, and a business friend of Ed's named Duke Tobac.

We had to leave Ed's car down at the road and walk up the narrow unused lane leading to the big, 1941, leading with a vengeance. Oh, it's cold, isn't it? It knows drifting deeper. Oh, Helen, to the right there. The house is over there.

Alright, Laura. I didn't know we'd have to work. It'll be good for us. I wonder what your friend must think of it. About like this on a New Year's Eve now. Our Duke? Oh, Duke's a good sport.

Besides there, we made a practice of spending New Year's Eve in the old, kind of place for the last three years. Yes, Ed, we have. Besides, good and want to spoil the fun. Anyway, I think that he makes a fine partner for Laura, don't you?

Yes. He's very handsome. And wealthy. Helen, do you think she likes him? Well, the way she's hanging on to him and laughing, I wouldn't exactly say so. You certainly must think that we're idiots. How would you call me Duke? I've been calling you Laura all evening.