se which he still half-heartedly believes in, is frustrated.

"To me the most important aspect of the lecture was that he prepared it
in our home. So, for another week, we enjoyed one another's company; and
after the lecture he not only went home with me, as I have said, but he
has remained ever since. I am trying not to build up any more hopes on
this, because I know that Terry has been in a particularly reckless
mood, and does not care much where he is. I am sorry that he could not
find a better outlet for his mood than lecturing for the Social Science
League, but that perhaps is a better and more harmless way than getting
in with the criminals, as he has wanted to do so often of late. You may
be sure, however, that his talk on the platform will not be forgotten,
and should anything happen, in any way like the McKinley affair, for
instance, I am sure things would be made very unpleasant for him. So I
hope nothing will happen.

"Terry is really harmless. He expends all of his energy in desiring and
thinking and talking, and has nothing left over for action. Whenever he
had any scheme in mind I did not like, I used to encourage him to talk
about it, knowing that he thus would be satisfied, without acting. He
lives almost altogether in the head and in the imagination, and is
really a teacher, in his own peculiar way, rather than an actor or
practical man. That is why he takes offence at what seems to me such
little things: they are not little to him, in his scheme of things,
which is not the scheme of the world, and, alas! not even mine, I fear.
He is so terribly alone, and growing more so, and I feel so awfully
sorry for him.

"Especially since our rupture I have been compelled to be so careful not
to hurt his feelings or trespass on his ideas of right and wrong; for he
imagines he can feel what I am thinking and feeling, even if no words
are said. He says words only conceal thought and do not express it. At
times I feel so oppressed and depressed that I should experience the
keenest ecstasy if I could hurt him in some physical way, use my muscles
on him until I were exhausted. In imagination I sometimes know the
fierce delight and exaltation of my flesh and spirit in hurting this
man whom I love, in hurting him morally and physically--and I feel the
lightness of my heart as the accumulated burden of my repression rolls
away in the wildest, freest sensations.

"Of course, I have only felt this way at times; and at th