tings and trying to bring them vividly back to
me.

"And, do you know, what makes me supremely glad is the feeling that
Terry is going to love me again, that I am going to win him back. He
thinks that love is an enslaving thing and harmful to the soul, but my
dear lovely idealist and dreamer has loved me once and he must love me
again. I am so in love with love and almost as fanatical about it as the
ecstatic artist is about art: love for love's sake, art for art's sake.
I never did--and hope I never shall--get over that feeling of awe at the
mystery and beauty and elusiveness of that great force in life--love.
And I have always felt so sorry for people, sincere people, who told me
honestly that they have felt that wonder-in-spring sensation only once
in all their lives. It made me think that I had at least one thing to be
very thankful for, that I was different from them, that I could
experience the divine flame, and experience it continually. If you knew
how often I have fallen in love with Terry!

"Poor Terry, I feel so sorry for him, too; he has no place to stay,
though he could stay indefinitely at three or four houses that I know
of, where his friends would feel only too glad to have him. But he says
he does not want again to attach himself to any person, place, or cause,
because the time would come when he should have to break away, and then
he should have to experience death again. So he intends to move about
whenever and wherever the whim suits. But I am sure this life will not
satisfy Terry for long, for there is really very much of the hermit in
him....

"I am going to see him again in a few days, so I have the pleasantest
things to dream of. If I am to win Terry back, I must be extremely
careful: one false move would be likely to queer the whole thing. Oh, I
am tremendously happy, for I am sure I shall win my dear Terry back
again!"

The next letter, written about a month later, has a note of
discouragement, and also a slight suggestion of an effort to steel
herself against possible developments in the future:

"When I go among the comrades and friends, I must keep such careful
watch over myself. I don't want to show them how I feel about our
separation. The movement had the strongest conviction that I was so
wrapped up in Terry--I was always so frantically jealous of him, you
know--that I would surely die, or go crazy, if I were ever separated
from him. So they are all guessing at present, and don't k