's letter, why not go out to
'Frisco? It would make a change, something to do, something to drive
away this perpetual desire of another's presence.

A second night like last stared me in the face. What was the use of
continuing to feel in this wretched, angry, burning, hungry way?

I broke the seal and read Suzee's second appeal to me, more
passionate, more urgent than the last. She begged me to go to her
without delay, or it would be too late; a fervour of longing breathed
in every line.

An ironic smile came over my face as I read. This letter to me seemed
like an echo of the one I had sent to Viola that morning. Well, I
would wait for her answer, and then, perhaps, if she would not return
to me, I would go to 'Frisco.

In any case, I would send a few lines to Suzee with the money for her
purchase. It would be best to cable it to her, and I went out again to
arrange this.

Five wretched, listless days went by, followed by nearly sleepless
nights, and then came Viola's answer, apparently by the postmark from
some place in France.

My whole body shook as I opened it, and for many seconds I could see
nothing on the paper but a mass of dancing black lines. Yet the
immense comfort of being again in touch with her after these dreadful
days of isolation seemed to flow over and through me like some healing
balm.

At last I read these lines:

"I am terribly, unutterably grieved, my own dearest one, to hear
how much you have suffered, but my return to you now would not
undo that, and only give you the pain in addition that I went away
to avoid for you.

"Go, dearest, go out to 'Frisco, and let the thought of me lie in
your subconsciousness for a year, a little chrysalis of future
happiness. Do not think of me, do not let your mind dwell on me.
Fill up your life with joy and work. I have a conviction that we
cannot ever really separate in this life. Therefore I do not fear
(as you seemed to do) that anything will be strong enough to keep
us apart if we both will to be together. Only, for a time, let me
sleep in your Soul in a chamber where none other can enter, and
the year will soon pass for you, though slowly, as a winter night,
for me. Your

"VIOLA."

* * * * *

A great numbness seized me as I came to the end.

A year without her. It seemed like Eternity itself.

I sat for many hours motionless with her letter in my