I don't ask you to jump the next train and follow me. I
don't ask you to wire me, "Come back, Bill." Though I would come quick
enough if you called me. I merely want you to think it over soberly
and let your heart decide. You know where I stand, don't you, Hazel,
dear? I haven't changed--not a bit--I'm the same old Bill. But I'd
rather hit the trail alone than with an unwilling partner. Don't
flounder about in any quicksand of duty. There is no "I ought to"
between us.
So it is up to you once more, little person. If my way is not to be
your way I will abide by your decision without whining. And whenever
you want to reach me, a message to Felix Courvoiseur, Fort George, will
eventually find me. I'll fix it that way.
I don't know what I'll do after I make that Klappan trip. I'm too
restless to make plans. What's the use of planning when there's nobody
but myself to plan for?
So long, little person. I like you a heap, for all your cantankerous
ways.
BILL.
She laid aside the letter, with a lump in her throat. For a brief
instant she was minded to telegraph the word that would bring him
hurrying back. But--some of the truths he had set down in cold black
and white cut her deep.
Pages:
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380