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 thought—and why was she watching if she did not still love him?

Sometime—somewhere—a woman! The inference inevitable from the form of this allusion was chilling. He shuddered as if a polar blast had struck him but—he read on:

"Some things I thought were vices in you, George, have come to look like virtues since I've seen so much of other men. But I think for one item, that as a lover, George, you put too much trust in material things. You wanted to give your wife a mountain of concrete and steel when she would rather have had arose. You ordered wagon-loads of flowers sent to me in those five years, George, but I never appreciated all of them as much as if you had stopped your car by the roadside and gathered a handful of daisies and brought them to me. But you never did that.