tentative clutch of a shy man at the skirts of Romance in passing.
Believe me, old Conservatism was with me when I wrote that message.
He was fighting hard. He followed me, struggling, shrieking,
protesting, to the post box itself. But I whipped him. Glory
be! I did for him.

We are young but once, I told him. After that, what use to signal
to Romance? The lady at least, I said, will understand. He sneered
at that. He shook his silly gray head. I will admit he had me
worried. But now you have justified my faith in you. Thank you a
million times for that!

Three weeks I have been in this huge, ungainly, indifferent city,
longing for the States. Three weeks the Agony Column has been my
sole diversion. And then--through the doorway of the Carlton
restaurant--you came--

It is of myself that I must write, I know. I will not, then, tell
you what is in my mind--the picture of you I carry. It would mean
little to you. Many Texan gallants, no doubt, have told you the
same while the moon was bright above you and the breeze was softly
whispering through the branches of--the branches of the--of the--

Confound it, I don't know! I have never been in Texas. It is a
vice in me I hope soon to correct. All day I intended to look up
Texas in the encyclopedia. But all day I have dwelt in the clouds.
And there are no reference books in the clouds.

Now I am down to earth in my quiet study. Pens, ink and paper are
before me. I must prove myself a person worth knowing.