now just what
to think of me. Apparently I am just the same, in fact some better, for
I laugh and talk more, much more than I ever did.

"Terry and I have met several times since I wrote you, and I am almost
discouraged, and think at times it would be better for me not to see him
at all. I have to be so careful, and it is awfully hard to control my
impulses to tell him what I feel! But I dare not do that or he would
never see me again, and I hardly think I could stand that. He is so
very cold and friendly; of course, he does kiss me when we meet and at
parting, but in such an indifferent way, and if I allow my lips to
linger or cling to his for just the least part of a second, you ought to
see how abruptly, almost roughly, he turns away. And I must not even
notice it, and it hurts terribly. I don't understand how anyone can be
so dreadfully cold. It makes me thrill all over when I see him bend his
head toward me for the customary kiss, and I close my eyes so that I may
enjoy more intensely that blissful eternity which I expect, and alas!
only one short, perfunctory little peck, and it is all over--before my
eyes are hardly closed.

"However, hope has not entirely left me. After being so intimate with
Terry for seven years I ought surely to know something of his moods and
disposition; and I do hope and expect that he will in time grow weary of
roaming about and living the way he does now and that he will begin to
yearn for feminine influences and caprices and tyrannies, and I hope,
for mine in particular!...

"I should be much happier if I did not care for him so much, and I hope
that in time I may have only a strong friendly interest in him. At
times I envy him: he is so care-free, without the slightest
responsibility toward anything or anybody; he can break from old
associations and habits so easily and light-heartedly. I never could
have done that....

"I am awfully absent-minded these days; you would laugh at some of the
funny things I do. I ride on the cars miles past my street, and wander
about and forget where I am going. Sometimes I think of things and then
forget I was thinking."

In another six weeks' time came still more gloomy news:

"Our meetings are as uncertain, unpremeditated, and unarranged as his
wanderings about the city are. It happened that I was all alone for the
whole of last week, eight precious days of freedom, especially from
Katie and her woes. I love her, as you know, but she does get o