It is like scattering words before the obvious to say that I wish you a pleasant summer. Not a forgetful one. To aid memory, as you, some night on the passage across, lean far over and look down at the phosphorescent couch of the sea for its recumbent Venus of the deep, remember that the Venus of modern life is the American woman. Am I to see you when autumn, if nothing else, brings you home--see you not at all or seldom or often? At least this will remind you that I merely say _au revoir_. Adrift for the summer rather than be an unwilling bride. TILLY SNOWDEN. _June twenty-first._ TILLY SNOWDEN TO BEVERLEY SANDS _June 21._ DEAR BEVERLEY: Since life separated us the other night I have not heard from you. I have not expected a letter, nor do you expect one from me. But I am going away to-morrow for the summer and my heart has a few words for you which must be spoken. It was not disappointment about the summer in England, not even your refusal to explain why you disappointed me, that held the main reason of my drawing back. I am in the mood to-night to tell you some things very frankly: Twice before I knew you, I was engaged to be married and twice as the wedding drew near I drew away from it. It is an old, old feeling of mine, though I am so young, that if married I should not long be happy. Of course I should be happy for a while. But _afterwards_! The interminable, intolerable _afterwards_! The same person year in and year out--I should be stifled. Each of the men to whom I was engaged had given me before marriage all that he had to give: the rest I did not care for; after marriage with either I foresaw only staleness, his limitations, monotony. Believe this, then: there are things in you that I cling to, other things in you that do not draw me at all. And I cling more to life than to you, more than to any one person. How can any one person ever be all to me, all that I am meant for, and _I will live_! Why should we women be forced to spend our lives beside the first spring where one happened to fill one's cup at life's dawn! Why be doomed to die in old age at the same spring! With all my soul I believe that the world which has slowly thrown off so many tyrannies is about to throw off other tyrannies. It has been so harsh toward happiness, so compassionate toward misery and wrong. Yet happiness is life's finest victory: for ages we have been trying to defeat our one best victory--our natural happiness! A brief cup of joy filled at life's morning--then to go thirsty for the rest of the long, hot, weary day! Why not goblet after goblet at spring after spring--there are so many springs! And thirst is so eager for them! Come to see me in the autumn. For I will not, cannot, give you up. And when you come, do not seek to renew the engagement. Let that go whither it has gone. But come to see me. For I love you. TILLY. TILLY SNOWDEN TO POLLY BOLES _June 21._ POLLY BOLES: