When she had gone, I turned to the chapter in my book where Becky weeps
crocodile tears over poor Rawdon Crawley on the night before Waterloo.
There is no scene in modern literature to match it. But I couldn't get
my mind on it. Nancy was reading Olaf's letter!

I kept a copy of it, and here it is:

"I knew when I first saw her in the garden that she was the One
Woman. I had wanted sea-blood, and when she came, ready for a dip
in the sea, it seemed a sign. One knows these things somehow, and I
knew. I shan't attempt to explain it.

"When you told me of her lover, I felt that Fate had played a trick
on me. I could not now with honor pursue the woman who was promised
to another. Yet I permitted myself that one day--the day on my
boat.

"I learned in those hours that I spent with her that she had been
molded by the man she is to marry and that in the years to come she
will shrink to the measure of his demands upon her. She is feminine
enough to be swayed by masculine will. That is at once her strength
and her weakness. Loving a man who will love her for the wonder of
her womanhood, she will fulfill her greatest destiny. Loving, on
the other hand, one who aspires only to fit her into some
attenuated social scheme, she will wither and fade. I think you
know that this is true, that you will not accuse me of being unfair
to any one.

"And now may I tell you what my dreams have been for her?