may not occupy the same place at the same time--result: two people
cannot see things from the same point of view, and the slightest
difference in angle changes the thing seen.

I did not decide to come away into a little corner in the country, in
this land in which I was not born, without looking at the move from all
angles. Be sure that I know what I am doing, and I have found the place
where I can do it. Some time you will see the new home, I hope, and
then you will understand. I have lived more than sixty years. I have
lived a fairly active life, and it has been, with all its hardships--and
they have been many--interesting. But I have had enough of the
city--even of Paris, the most beautiful city in the world. Nothing can
take any of that away from me. It is treasured up in my memory. I am
even prepared to own that there was a sort of arrogance in my
persistence in choosing for so many years the most seductive city in the
world, and saying, "Let others live where they will--here I propose to
stay." I lived there until I seemed to take it for my own--to know it on
the surface and under it, and over it, and around it; until I had a sort
of morbid jealousy when I found any one who knew it half as well as I
did, or presumed to love it half as much, and dared to say so. You will
please note that I have not gone far from it.

But I have come to feel the need of calm and quiet--perfect peace. I
know again that there is a sort of arrogance in expecting it, but I am
going to make a bold bid for it. I will agree, if you like, that it is
cowardly to say that my work is done. I will even agree that we both
know plenty of women who have cheerfully gone on struggling to a far
greater age, and I do think it downright pretty of you to find me
younger than my years. Yet you must forgive me if I say that none of us
know one another, and, likewise, that appearances are often deceptive.