l-holes of that unreal world it will seem as if you were really mine.
Perhaps I did not do right by keeping silent; perhaps my silence was false pride. I was talking to one of your friends the other day about soldiers getting married, arguing that such conduct was selfish. She had been quite quiet hardly interested. Suddenly, with an unexpected violence, she turned. " I wish I had married my man," she said. I learnt her story afterwards. She had been engaged to a French officer and he had been killed. She had joined the Red Cross and ever since has been working her way grimly nearer and nearer to the Front. Did they smile as quietly as we smiled when last they parted?
So many happy times we've had in the last few days so much of friendship. I can at least carry the memory of these things back; they are unspoilt by any sadder knowledge. To-night, this last night, was perfect. We went to our favourite cafe the one we visited on that first snowy Sunday. We stopped so long talking over dinner that b