nch in hand if I didn't want to
lose it entirely. That Scotch doctor of ours has mercifully abandoned
my scientific education, so I have a little time at my own disposal. By
some unlucky chance I began with "Numa Roumestan," by Daudet. It is
a terribly disturbing book for a girl to read who is engaged to a
politician. Read it, Gordon dear, and assiduously train your character
away from Numa's. It's the story of a politician who is disquietingly
fascinating (like you). Who is adored by all who know him (like you).
Who has a most persuasive way of talking and makes wonderful speeches
(again like you). He is worshiped by everybody, and they all say to
his wife, "What a happy life you must lead, knowing so intimately that
wonderful man!"

But he wasn't very wonderful when he came home to her--only when he had
an audience and applause. He would drink with every casual acquaintance,
and be gay and bubbling and expansive; and then return morose and sullen
and down. "Joie de rue, douleur de maison," is the burden of the book.

I read it till twelve last night, and honestly I didn't sleep for being
scared. I know you'll be angry, but really and truly, Gordon dear,
there's just a touch too much truth in it for my entire amusement. I
didn't mean ever to refer again to that unhappy matter of August 20,--we
talked it all out at the time,--but you know perfectly that you need a
bit of watching. And I don't like the idea. I want to have a feeling of
absolute confidence and stability about the man I marry. I never could
live in a state of anxious waiting for him to come home.

Read "Numa" for yourself, and you'll see the woman's point of view.
I'm not patient or meek or long-suffering in any way, and I'm a little
afraid of what I'm capable of doing if I have the provocation. My heart
has to be in a thing in order to make it work, and, oh, I do so want our
marriage to work!

Please forgive me for writing all this. I don't mean that I really think
you'll be a "joy of the street, and sorrow of the home." It's just that
I didn't sleep last night, and I feel sort of hollow behind the eyes.

May the year that's coming bring good counsel and happiness and
tranquillity to both of us!

As ever,

S.

January 1.

Dear Judy:

Something terribly sort of queer has happened, and positively I don't
know whether it did happen or whether I dreamed it. I'll tell you
from the beginning, and I think it might be as well if you burned this
lett