And to think that there was a time when I used to think quite calmly about being married to you! Of course, my dear, I always did look forward to it as the greatest possible happiness, but I more or less took it for granted--the sort of happiness a fellow always expects. But now, Angelica, it seems as wonderful and beautiful and far off as heaven. I can’t even really believe that I’ll see you ever again. I’ve got so used to being a lousy, muddy, hunted animal that I can’t believe it will ever end. I don’t even long for the end; it seems so impossible. I have a damnable conviction--an obsession, I suppose they’d call it--that every one gets killed in the war. So many of the chaps I knew have gone, often killed beside me--and in the hospital, dying so sickeningly! I can’t help imagining that every one in the world is dying. So that the idea of coming home and marrying you is--I can’t describe what it is. Really and literally a dream of heaven. Angelica, darling, don’t disappoint me again! I couldn’t bear it. Write to me faithfully, as often as possible--even every day. It wouldn’t be much to do, for you who are at home and safe and comfortable. With all my heart, EDDIE. Now this letter might have disappointed another girl, but not Angelica. She didn’t at all mind its being so little lover-like, so much concerned with Eddie and his feelings, and so little concerned with herself. She was, in fact, very proud that such a learned and serious young man as Eddie should write to her at all. She was overjoyed, exultant, to see that he still wanted her--with a sort of humility in her joy quite unusual in her. "I won’t disappoint him ever again!" she cried. "I’ll do my very best. I’ll just _live_ for him! And if it’s like a dream of heaven to him," she reflected, "so it is to me. I’ve suffered, too. It couldn’t have been much worse for any one, anywhere. Oh, won’t it be heaven to be _safe_--to be his wife, and settled there at Buena Vista, and rich, and every one looking up to me? A motor-car of my own, and lovely clothes, and a beautiful room! I’ll have Miss Sillon and Miss Devery out to see me." She looked at herself in the mirror. "I’m getting to look refined," she thought; "not factory any more. When I can have real grand clothes, I’ll be _beautiful_! Vincent said I lost heaven when I stopped loving him," she reflected. "Well, I’ll get it back again, with Eddie!" II In spite of his entreaty, she waited for more than a week before she replied to Eddie’s letter, for she wished to have something to tell him. She spent two entire evenings over her letter, and when it was done there was hardly a mistake in it, in spelling, in grammar, or in sentiment; for Angelica was fast learning the correct way to feel. DEAR EDDIE: