"I wonder where you will be to-day. I believe you are always in that
room of yours. You only leave it to walk to the station with me, after
which you go back to it, and work there till it is dark; and then you
rest, waiting for the daylight, and when it comes you go to work again.
I cannot fancy you anywhere else. I should not like to realise that you
have an existence of which I can know nothing, a life through which I
cannot follow you, even in imagination.
"But sometimes you come to me, and then how glad I am! You come to me
and kiss me, and it is night and I am dreaming, and not ashamed.
"Yes, the days do drag on slowly, for after all I am never quite happy,
never at peace even, never for a moment, except when I am with you. I
am sorry I feel so, for it seems ungrateful in the face of all the
kindness and care that is being lavished on me by my friends. One lady
here has seven children--another instance of the unequal distribution
of the good things of this world. She has lent me one of them to
comfort me because I am jealous. He sleeps in my room, and is a fair-
haired boy, with eyes that remind me of you.
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