ky ended her
letter to Randy with the following paragraph:

"Mr. Cope has a sister, Louise. She thinks that people ought to marry
because they like the same things. She thinks that if two people care
for the same furniture and the same religion and the same things to
eat, that life will be lovely. She couldn't love a man enough to live
on a desert island with him, because she adores New York. Of course,
there is something in that, and if it is so, you and I ought to be very
happy, Randy. We like old houses and the Virginia hills, and lots of
books, and fireplaces--and dogs and horses and hot biscuits and fried
chicken. It sounds awfully funny to put it that way, doesn't it, and
practical? But perhaps Louise Cope is right, and one isn't likely, of
course, to have the desert island test. Do you _really_ think that
anybody could be happy on a desert island, Randy?"

Randy replied promptly.

"If you were in love with me, Becky, you wouldn't be asking questions.
You would believe that we could be blissful on a desert island. I
believe it. It may not be true, yet I feel that a hut on a mountain
top would be heaven for me if you were in it, Becky. In a way Cope's
sister is right. The chances for happiness are greatest with those who
have similar tastes, but not fried chicken tastes or identical
religious opinions. These do not mean so much, but it would mean a
great deal that we think alike about honesty and uprightness and truth
and courage----

"And now, Becky, I might as well say it straight from the shoulder. I
haven't the least right in the world to let you feel that you are
engaged to me. I shall never marry you unless you love me--unless you
love me so much that you would have the illusion of happiness with me
on a desert island.

"I have no right to let you tie yourself to me. The whole thing is
artificial and false. You are strong enough to stand alone. I want
you to stand alone, Becky, for your own sake. I want you to tell
yourself that Dalton isn't worth one single thought of yours. Tell
yourself the truth, Becky, about him. It is the only way to own your
soul.

"You may be interested to know that the Watermans left Hamilton Hill
yesterday. Dalton went with them. I haven't seen him since the night
of the Merriweathers' ball. I didn't tell you, did I, that after I
took the fan away from him, I dropped him into the fountain? I had
much rather have tied him to a stake, and have bu