And then the one moment of misunderstanding--the quick accusation--the quicker retort--and my poor heart lying crushed between the bodies of two men whom I loved each in his proper way… Think of what I say, if only on account of what I have suffered. “Forgive me! But my anxiety lest any such blight should come across a young life that I love far far beyond my own is heavy on me. I have lost myself in sad thoughts of a bitter past… Indeed you must take it that my earnestness in this matter is shown in the lurid light of that past. I have been silent on it always. Never since the black cloud burst over me have I said a word to a soul--not to my sister--nor to Joy whom I adore and whose questioning to me of my ‘love affair’--as they still call it when they speak of it--is so sweet a tightening bond between us. I have only said to her: ‘and then he died,’ and my heart has seemed to stop beating. Be patient with me and don’t blame me. You are a man and can be tolerant. Think not of me or any gloom of my life but only that makes me sadly, grimly, terribly in earnest when I see similar elements of tragedy drawing close to each other before my eyes. You may be inclined to laugh at me--though I know you will not--and to put down my thinking of possible great quarrels arising from such small causes as ‘an old maid’s’ fears. But when I have known the awful effect of a mere passing word, misunderstood to such disastrous result, no wonder that I have fears. It is due to that very cause that my fears are those of an old maid. I suppose I need not ask you to be sure to keep all this locked in your own breast. It is my secret; I have shared it with you because I deem such necessary for the happiness of--of others. I have kept it so close that not even those nearest and dearest to me have even suspected it. The rowdiness of spirit--as it seems to me--which other friends call fun and brightness and high spirits and other such insulting terms--has been my domino as I have passed through the hollow hearted carnival of life. Judge then how earnest I am when I put it aside and raise my mask for you a stranger whom I have seen but twice; I who even then was but an accessory--a super on the little stage where we began to act our little--comedy or tragedy which is it to be?