“And yet I think for all my education there is something radically wrong with me. I am that hybrid thing, ‘a lady in the making, an imitation lady.’ And what troubles me most is the thought that perhaps I am only an imitation woman also.
“My ancestors had red blood in their veins, and my descendants’ blood will be blue; but in my veins there is nothing but water.
“Listen, Lou; to-day I shut myself in my room and scrubbed the floor of my private bath. Down on my knees I went with soap and brush and scrubbed for all there was in me, and when I finished my back ached horribly, and still the floor was far from clean; and I the granddaughter of a woman who has scrubbed acres of floors, and could do it yet, though she is almost eighty.
“Oh, Lou, Lou, I wish I had dared to run away with you that last night three years ago. Do you remember—the moon, the gate that creaked, the smell of the dew on the grass, the chirping of the insects—a heavenly midsummer night, made for love—as we were made for love?
“I had to stand on tiptoe when you kissed me. And your dear eyes were filled with anguish when we parted. You told me I would find you there when I needed you. And, oh! I need you now!
“How many generations of our children’s children would it take to make a lady, Lou?
“Everything is wrong with the world to-night. My head hurts and I can’t think.
“See! Here on my desk I have a time-table, a brave blue time-table, which tells me that I am only four short hours away from you, and that I still have ample time to pack and catch the midnight train.
“If I join you, you need never see this letter—and if I do not, then you must not see it. I will burn it.
“This is my hour, my future is in my own hands. It is all a question of courage: my ancestors had it, my descendants will have it; but have I?