Ben, dear, are you going to commit the folly of being jealous? If I had to marry him, do you know what my first wifely present would be? A liberal transfusion of my own blood! As soon as I enter the room, what fascinates me are his lower eyelids, which hold little cupfuls of sentimental fluid. I am always expecting the little pools to run over: then there would be tears. The night he goes for good—perhaps they will be tears that night.
If you ask me how can I, if I feel thus about him, still encourage his visits, I have simply to say that I don't know. When it comes to what a woman will "receive" in such cases, the ground she walks on is very uncertain to her own feet. It may be that the one thing she forever craves and forever fears not to get is absolute certainty, certainty that some day love for her will not be over, everything be not ended she knows not why. Dr. Mullen's love is pitiful, and as long as a man's love is pitiful at least a woman can be sure of it. Therefore he is irresistible—as my guest!
The roses are glorious. I bury my face in them down to the thorns. And then I come over and sign my name as the indispensable
POLLY BOLES.
POLLY BOLES TO TILLY SNOWDEN
June 6.
DEAR TILLY:
I have had a note from Beverley, asking whether he could come this evening. I have written that I have an appointment, but I did not enlighten him as to the appointment being with you. Why not let him suffer awhile? I will explain afterwards. I told him that I could perhaps arrange to divide the evening; would you mind? And would you mind coming early? I will do as much for you some time, and I suspect I couldn't do more!
P.S.—Rather than come for the first half of the evening perhaps you would prefer to postpone your visit altogether. It would suit me just as well; better in fact. There really was something very particular, Tilly dear, that I wanted to talk to Ben about to-night.
I shall not look for you at all this evening, best of friends.