I wonder if you have read as far as this. I wonder if I have been at
all intelligible?

Will Robert Halarkenden see that you get this thick letter? There is
only one way by which I can know that it found you.

I know that I have been hopelessly inadequate--perhaps grotesque. To
see it and be unable to tell you--imagine the awfulness! Give me
another chance. I was not going to ask that, but I must. Can't you
see I've got to show you? I mean--about another chance--will you not
renew that promise? Will you not send a word in answer to this letter,
and promise once more not to do anything decisive until you have heard
from me again? I am

Sincerely yours,
GEOFFREY McBIRNEY.


FOREST GATE, August 8th.

MY DEAR MR. McBIRNEY--

Robert Halarkenden saw that I got it. You don't know who Robert
Halarkenden is, do you? He's interesting, and likely you never will
know about him--but it doesn't matter. Your letter left me with a
curious feeling, a feeling which I think I used to have as a child when
I was just waking from one of the strong dreams of childhood which
"trail clouds of glory." It was a feeling that I had been swept off my
feet and made to use my wings--only I haven't much in the line of
wings. But it was as if you had lifted me into an atmosphere where I