you're up against anything hard, that ought to help you.

We talked a great deal of you, as I said, and I find myself now
thinking more of you than of myself in connection with her. I don't
understand it. Perhaps it's because she seems so alone in the world,
and you are the most intimate friend she has. Perhaps it's because
you've seen so much more of her than I in these last few months.
Anyway, I have a feeling that somehow you are an integral part of her.
I've tried to puzzle out the relationship, and I can't. "Brother" does
not define it; neither does "comrade." If you were not already
married, I'd almost suspect her of being in love with you.

I know that sounds absurd. I know it is absurd. She is n't the kind
to allow her emotions to get away from her like that. But I'll say
this much, Covington: that if we three were to start fresh, I'd stand a
mighty poor chance with her.

This is strange talk from a man who less than six hours ago became
officially engaged. I told her that I had let her go once, and that
now I had found her again I wanted her to stay. And she said, "I'll
try." That was n't very much, Covington, was it? But I seized the
implied promise as a drowning man does a straw. It was so much more
than anything I have hoped for.

I should have kept her that time I found her on the little farm in
Connecticut. If I had been a little more insistent then, I think she
would have come with me. But I was afraid of her money. It was
rumored that her aunt left her a vast fortune, and--you know the
mongrels that hound a girl in that position, Covington? I was afraid
she might think I was one of the pack. She was frightened--bewildered.
I should have snatched her away from them all and gone off with her. I
was earning enough to support her decently, and I should have thought
of nothing else. Instead of that I held back a little, and so lost
her, as I thought. She sailed away, and I returned to my work like a
madman--and I nearly died.

Now I feel alive clear to my finger-tips. I 'm going to get my eyes
back. I have n't the slightest doubt in the world about that. Already
I feel the magic of the new balm that has been applied. They don't
ache any more. Sitting here to-night without my shade, I can hold them
open and catch the feeble light that filters in from the street lamps
at a distance. It is only a question of a few months, perhaps weeks,
perhaps days. The next time we meet I shal