All that was has ceased to be. I am Elsie Bugge once more, and stand on the threshold of life in all its expanse and beauty.
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He is coming....
He will come by the morning train. It seems too soon.
Why did he not wait a day or two? I want time to collect myself. There is so much to do....
How my hands tremble!
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I carry his telegram next my heart. Now I feel quite calm. Why will Jeanne insist on my going to bed? I am not ill.
She says it is useless to arrange the flowers in the vases to-night, they will be faded by to-morrow. But can I rely on Torp's seeing that we have enough food in the house? My head is swimming.... The grass wants mowing, and the hedge must be cut.... Ah! What a fool I am! As though he would notice the lawn and the hedge!...
Jeanne asks, "Where will the gentleman sleep?" I cannot answer the question. I see she is getting the little room upstairs ready for him. The one that has most sun.