house I had arranged such a little time ago--I have only been here two
months.

She had come over feeling pretty glum--my dear neighbor from Voulangis.
She went away laughing. At the gate she said, "It looks less gloomy to
me than it did when I came. I felt such a brave thing driving over here
through a country preparing for war. I expected you to put a statue up
in your garden 'To a Brave Lady.'"

I stood in the road watching her drive away, and as I turned back to the
house it suddenly took on a very human sort of look. There passed
through my mind a sudden realization, that, according to my habit, I had
once again stuck my feet in the ground of a new home--and taken root.
It is a fact. I have often looked at people who seem to keep foot-free.
I never can. If I get pulled up violently by the roots, if I have my
earthly possessions pruned away, I always hurry as fast as I can, take
root in a new place, and proceed to sprout a new crop of possessions
which fix me there. I used, when I was younger, to envy people who
could just pack a bag and move on. I am afraid that I never envied them
enough to do as they did. If I had I should have done it. I find that
life is pretty logical. It is like chemical action--given certain
elements to begin with, contact with the fluids of Life give a certain
result. After all I fancy every one does about the best he can with the
gifts he has to do with. So I imagine we do what is natural to us; if
we have the gift of knowing what we want and wanting it hard enough we
get it. If we don't, we compromise.

I am closing this up rather hurriedly as one of the boys who joins his
regiment at Fontainebleau will mail it in Paris as he passes through. I
suppose you are glad that you got away before this came to pass.