“It is not a question of right and wrong, but only whether the love remains.”
“Then you don’t think it a duty to crush it out?”
“No. All love is noble that is distinct from self.”
You held out your hand. “I am so glad you think so, and that you spoke your thought. You have done me a great kindness,—greater far than you can ever know. Thank you, and good-night.”
Good-night, Maizie.
XX
March 11. When I left My Fancy, after my visit, Agnes had nothing but praise for me. “I was certain that you and Maizie would be friends if you ever really knew each other,” she said triumphantly. Unfortunately, our first meeting in the city served only to prove the reverse. In one of my daily walks up-town, I met you and Agnes outside a shop where you had been buying Christmas gifts for the boys of your Neighborhood Guild. You were looking for the carriage, about which there had been some mistake, and I helped you search. When our hunt was unsuccessful, you both said you would rather walk than let me get a cab, having been deterred only by the growing darkness, and not by the snow. So chatting merrily, away we went, through the elfin flakes which seemed so eager to kiss your cheeks, till your home was reached.
“If we come in, will you give us some tea?” asked Agnes.
“Tea, cake, chocolates, and conversation,” you promised.