l yourself getting a little dusty in life, think what should be
expected of one who was so loved, so waited for. You are of royal
stock; for you were born of a woman so perfect that sometimes I wonder
now if I have not imagined her. But I have not. She was real. We do not
guess out things so beautiful. God--It--Nature--makes them, and then we
describe them in verse or music, and people say we create. Don't speak
to me of this; only make use of it when the time comes.

There isn't much to tell you about camp. I do many of the same old
things. Perhaps I shall go to you; for sometimes I think you will not
want to come back. Pierre misses you.

[Sidenote: _To the Unknown Friend_]

I hate vulgarity! Mrs. Montrose seems to be a very good woman, but she
_is_ vulgar. Why, when women are middle-aged and portly, do they feel
at liberty to make rude personal speeches? She said to me yesterday:--

"If you want to marry Zoe, marry her soon." I was angry; I could only
look at her. She laughed, but she did flush. "Don't glare at me,
Ingomar," said she. "I'm speaking for your good. It isn't well for you
to marry her, but somehow you're the kind of a child I want to see
pleased. So keep on the spot. Captain Morton has come back, and he
knows Zoe has had some money left her. Be on the spot!" I walked away
without a word. Since then I have hardly seen Zoe. It is insulting to
go near her. As if I did not trust her! As if I would be "on the spot!"

[Sidenote: _Zoe Montrose to Francis Hume_]

I can't wait to tell you! so this goes round to you by messenger. You
couldn't guess it out in a lifetime. I am rich, truly rich! Uncle Obed
has died. He was a miser, God bless him! and he's left it all to me.
Did you ever hear of anything so absurd? Now I can buy myself elegant
leisure, as if it were something to be found at the shops. I can give
myself time to write my plays. I can even bring them out. Of course,
though I lead the horse to water I can't make him drink; and though I
were Midas I can't force the public to listen. Stay! is it impossible?
Go to! there shall be souvenir nights, and the newspapers shall be
fully primed. Actresses shall pose as injured wives, and scandals shall
be described in flaming headlines. All print is open to us. We are
rich, rich! I'm quite delirious with it.

[Sidenote: _Francis Hume to Zoe Montrose_]

Love,--You bewilder me. I didn't know you cared. Money? I didn't know
you wanted it. I believe we have a gr