time, and it is well, for a woman's heart so soon grows old, and a man's so soon grows cold. I used to regret that what was past was irrevocable, but now I revel in the fact that our little past is fixed in our minds for all time. Those days were a part of my life; they are now all my life. I only regret I did not realise more fully at the time that I was in sight of heaven. Why was I not a good Mahometan, down on my knees five times a day, thanking God for having brought you into my life? When did a woman realise at the time? It is this incapacity that has made all the bad women in the world.

"You say our love 'cannot be blessed of Heaven.' How do you know, omniscient one? Wait and see. I know I never felt so near my God as now. Love and religion go hand in hand in a woman's heart. I feel

bathed in the sunshine of His grace; nothing in my life has been taken away, but something added of unspeakable value. Does he so reward the undeserving? Please say, 'Never.'

"When you can, come to me. I will radiate an atmosphere of welcome. I will abase myself, I will glorify myself in your honour. Come, for I love you."

I wrote to her again as follows:

"I am inclined to use a diminutive to you for the first time, your letter was so wholesomely childish. Don't be annoyed, remember a child's chief charm is in the fact that it has so lately left heaven, to which we some day hope to go. Later, friction with the world rubs the nap off. You, dear heart, have a child's soul, a woman's heart,

and a man's intuition. You see, I claim for a man intuition, perhaps of a superior quality to that possessed by a woman; but, if you doubt it, as you say to me, 'wait and

see.

"Listen: with a man, passion unconsciously precedes love; with a woman it is the reverse, and sometimes with her the former is long in coming. The man who is successful with women is not the man who cries, like one in the wilderness, I want, I wish, but one who waits with perfect selfcontrol until he hears this cry whispered by the lips of the woman he loves. If a besieging lover has patience, perhaps he may have success. Perfect love is a flower, of which passion is the stem, but women and men arrive at perfection by a different procedure.

"This is intuition, or how should I, so

long unloved, unsung, be so wise, unless it is true that one woman can teach to a man all that all women know? Perhaps you, O God-given, are responsible for this newly acquired knowledge, that strange - I seem always to have possessed.

"There is very little more for me to tell you, dear. You know that where you are, the world is a garden; where you are not, a desert. 'To keep Time's perishing touch at bay,' I have only to think of you, but when my turn comes at last to answer the Judge of Judges, I shall point to the one glory of my life, and say: 'I won her love; is it not enough?'"

Washington, D. C.

I could stand the separation no longer, so I followed her on to New York. The

night after my arrival I went to the opera

with her. What happened you can judge by my next letter to her, which I inclose:

Good-bye, good-bye, the words keep clanging in my ears like the maddening iteration of a brain-beating bell. Goodbye means May God be with you.' When you so spoke to me last night, and added, ' for all time,' I wonder was God with you. I doubt it. As I understand it, we are not to see each other again. We are to crush out, to stamp out, to destroy our love for one another, as the progress of a forest fire is arrested, in order to save other things supposedly more valuable, that you may keep your conscience unspotted, that you may regain the habit of looking your husband straight in the eye, that I may keep unstained a dull, lustreless reputation. This may be wisdom, and it may not. How can