ove to be love must feel itself infinite, or as
nearly infinite as anything human can be. When I can't pour it out in
that way--when I pause to reflect how far I can go, or reach a point
beyond which I see that I cannot go any further--I do not truly love."

Having written this much, he laid down his pen and considered. He had
said nothing personal, unless it was by implication. It was only after
long meditation that he decided to leave the matter there. The prime
question was no longer as to whether or not he loved her, but as to
whether or not she loved him. That was for her to decide. It was for her
to decide without his urging or tormenting. He began to feel not only
too sensitive on the subject, but too proud to make appeals to which she
would probably listen out of generosity. Since he had been in the wrong,
it was for her to make the advances; and so he ended his letter and
posted it.

The discussion continued throughout the correspondence that ensued while
he migrated from Minneapolis to Milwaukee, from Milwaukee to Denver, and
from Denver to Colorado Springs. It was partly from curiosity of travel
that he zigzagged in this way across the country, and partly to make it
plain to Lois without saying it that he awaited her permission to come
home. That he should be obliged to return one day, without her
permission if not with it, was a matter of course, but it would make the
meeting easier if she summoned him. As a hint that she could do so and
have no fear, he asked her in a postscript to one of his letters to tell
him, when she next wrote, what was happening to Rosie Fay.

To this she replied as simply and straightforwardly as he had put the
question, imparting all that Jim Breen had told her and whatever she had
gleaned for herself, adding as a seeming afterthought in the letter she
wrote next day:

"If Rosie _could_ bring herself to marry Jim it would be the happiest of
all solutions, and make things easier for Claude. I think she will. If
so, it won't be so much because her heart will have been caught in the
rebound as that the poor little thing is mentally and emotionally
exhausted, and glad to creep into the arms of any strong, good man who
will love her and take care of her. Just to be able to do that much will
be enough for Jim. I see a good deal of him; so I know. Every time he
brings an order of new plants we have a little talk--always about Rosie.
His love is of the kind you wrote about the other day