ing uncomfortable--without mixing up your schedule?

I cried a little right here, Monte. It was a silly thing to do. But
you're alone in Paris, where we were together, and I'm alone here. It
is still raining. I think it is going to rain forever. I can't
imagine ever seeing the blue sky again. If I did, it would only make
me think of those glorious days between Paris and Nice. How wonderful
it was that it never rained at all. The sky was always pink in the
east when I woke up, and we saw it grow pink again at night, side by
side. Then the purple of the night, with the myriad silver stars, each
one beautiful in itself.

At night you always seemed to me to grow bigger than ever--inches
taller and broader, until some evenings when I bade you good-night I
was almost afraid of you. Because as you grew bigger I grew smaller.
I used to think that, if you took a notion to do so, you'd just pick me
up and carry me off. If you only had!

If you had only said, "We'll quit this child's play. You'll come with
me and we'll make a home and settle down, like Chic."

I'd have been a good wife to you, Monte. Honest, I would--if you'd
done like that any time before I met Peter and became ashamed. Up to
that point I'd have gone with you if you had loved me enough to take
me. Only, you did n't love me. That was the trouble, Monte. I'd made
you think I did not want to be loved. Then I made you think I was n't
worth loving. Then, when Peter came and made me see and hang my
head,--why, then it was too late, even though you had wanted to take me.

But you don't know, and never will know, what a good wife I'd have
been. But I would have tried to lead you a little, too. I would have
watched over you and been at your command, but I would have tried to
guide you into doing something worth while.

Perhaps we could have done something together worth while. You have a
great deal of money, Monte, and I have a great deal. We have more than
is good for us. I think if we had worked together we could have done
something for other people with it. I never thought of that until
lately; but the other evening, after you had been talking about your
days in college, I lay awake in bed, thinking how nice it would be if
we could do something for some of the young fellows there now who do
not have money enough. I imagined myself going back to Cambridge with
you some day and calling on the president or the dean, and hearing you
say to h