"DEAR SIR,--You have eyes in your head and must have seen what I have been at no pains to conceal from you. I have lived through weeks of torture now and would live through many more if there were anything to be gained. I have been led to write this by the enclosed letter, which I can show you, I think, without betrayal. _Ich kann nicht mehr._ . . . This may be a shock to you, no doubt it will cause you much pain, but I believe you have the humanity to attempt to understand and to believe me when I say that I was never, in my heart, more your friend than I am now. I think it is for you to help in so much suffering." The enclosed letter was from Matilda. Old Mole's eye clouded as he read it: "My dear, I can't let you go. I can't, I can't. I've tried so hard, I have. It isn't wrong to love like that. I can think of nothing else. He's been so kind, too. But I'm spoiling your life. I can love you, my dear, but I'm not the woman you ought to have. I can love you, my dear, but I'm not young and sweet like you ought to have. All this thinking and suffering has made me hard in my heart, I think. There's such a lot between me and you, my dear. I could fight through it with you, but that would be so hard on you. It's not as if he was a bad man, but he's so kind. He always understands, but not like you, my darling: he only understands with his mind. I've tried not to write to you and to make it easy for you, but I can't not write to you now. I must, even if it's for the last time. I love you." It was an untidy, blotched scrawl. Never had Old Mole seen such a long letter from Matilda. Very carefully he folded it up and placed it in his pocketbook. He went down to her room, and, as he knew he would, found her boxes packed, her wardrobe, her drawers, empty. The puppy, now a tolerable dog, was gazing ruefully at her trunks, ominous of departure. She came in, was startled to see him, recovered herself, and smiled at him. "Will you come with me?" he said. She followed him upstairs. "I have something to show you." He led her to his room. On the floor were his bags, hatbox, rug, packed, strapped and labeled. "I am going," he said. "The puppy will not mind my going." VII APPENDIX A LETTER FROM H. J. BEENHAM TO A. Z. PANOUKIAN, M.P. _"For two years it was the fashion among the English to cut out the appendix; but the fashion died and appendices are now retained."_ OBSERVATIONS AMONG THE ENGLISH, BY C. L. HUNG (BRETZELFRESSER COMPANY, HONG KONG AND NEW YORK). VII APPENDIX CAPRAIA. MY DEAR PANOUKIAN, So you have become a politician! I had hoped for better things.