If you ask me how can I, if I feel thus about him, still encourage his visits, I have simply to say that I don't know. When it comes to what a woman will "receive" in such cases, the ground she walks on is very uncertain to her own feet. It may be that the one thing she forever craves and forever fears not to get is absolute certainty, certainty that some day love for her will not be over, everything be not ended she knows not why. Dr. Mullen's love is pitiful, and as long as a man's love is pitiful at least a woman can be sure of it. Therefore he is irresistible--as my guest! The roses are glorious. I bury my face in them down to the thorns. And then I come over and sign my name as the indispensable POLLY BOLES. POLLY BOLES TO TILLY SNOWDEN _June 6._ DEAR TILLY: I have had a note from Beverley, asking whether he could come this evening. I have written that I have an appointment, but I did not enlighten him as to the appointment being with you. Why not let him suffer awhile? I will explain afterwards. I told him that I could perhaps arrange to divide the evening; would you mind? And would you mind coming early? I will do as much for you some time, and _I suspect I couldn't do more_! P.S.--Rather than come for the first half of the evening perhaps you would prefer to _postpone_ your visit _altogether_. It would suit me just as well; _better_ in fact. There really was something very _particular_, Tilly dear, that I wanted to talk to Ben about to-night. I shall not look for you at all _this_ evening, _best_ of friends. POLLY BOLES. TILLY SNOWDEN TO POLLY BOLES _June 6._ DEAR POLLY: The very particular something to talk to Ben about to-night is the identical something for every other night. And nothing could be more characteristic of you, as soon as you heard that my visit would clash with one of his, than your eagerness to push me partly out of the house in a hurried letter and then push me completely out in a quiet postscript. Being a woman, I understand your temptation and your tactics. I fully sympathise with you. Continue in ease of mind, my most trusted intimate. I shall not drop in to interrupt you and Ben--both not so young as you once were and both getting stout--heavy Polly, heavy Ben--as you sit side by side in your little Franklin Flat parlour. That parlour always suggests to me an enormous turnip hollowed out square: with no windows; with a hole on one side to come in and a hole on the other side to go out; upholstered in enormous bunches of beets and horse-radish, and lighted with a wilted electric sunflower. There you two will sit to-night, heavy Polly, heavy Ben, suffocating for fresh air and murmuring to each other as you have murmured for years: "I do! I do!" "I do! I do!" One sentence in your letter, Polly dear, takes your photograph like a camera; the result is a striking likeness. That sentence is this: "Why not let him suffer awhile? I will explain afterwards."