enough, and if I was prepared to live up to my contract with you.
“Now, my dear, you have given me three years of your life, of your youth and love, and with them you have given me more than I ever dreamed you could. You have given me more than any woman ever gave me. You have done for me the greatest thing one person can do for another—you have justified my continued existence to myself.
“I have always known that some time there would be a descent from the mountain top. I have not unhappily anticipated it. I have been content with what the days brought. And as long as you were happy the garden was fair. But you have not been happy lately. You have been very fine about it. You have tried to keep it from me. But I know it now, and I cannot be happy in my old place any longer with you unsatisfied there. One side of you is being starved, and I will not have it go on. You want to go, and because you do I want you to, I insist that you do. And I cannot face thinking about it, arguing about it. I’m not going to let my health interfere. My mind is made up about that. And it would have come just the same if there had been no war. In the end you would have had to go.
“And Valerie dear, you will go now while we still love each other. You will go because we love each other. I will not have our three years spoiled by any silly ideas about sacrifice. Our three years shall end with that night last week. I shall keep the picture of you as you stood in my den with me after dinner, and as you sat at the piano. And you shall keep some picture you had of me that night. I insist that the dust of lingering farewells be not allowed to settle on them.
“Now, old girl, I cannot command you, but I beg you to carry out the spirit of this letter. I am getting out
