"And if the days creep? Well, at first, after that picture, the
thought seems melancholy, unbearable. But that is wrong. The
realisation will not be unbearable. If they creep, why, then I shall
lie in them, very comfortable, very happy; dreaming of you, seeing
you, speaking with you, touching you. Yes, touching you. For, my dear,
you are here in the room with me as I write. I look up just to my
right, and there you are, Georgie mine; sitting on the end of my bed,
smiling at me. You have not left me, my dear, since we parted on the
seat this morning. Why, I cannot even write that it is only in
imagination that I see you. For me it is not imagination. I do, do see
you, Georgie mine. You are part of me, never to leave me.

"How new, how different, love makes life! Everything I do, everything
I see, everything I hear has a new interest because it is something to
share with you, something to save up and tell you. I am in trouble
(you understand that I am not, shall never be again; this is only
illustration--you must read it 'if I were in trouble'). I am in
trouble, and you are sharing it with me, sympathising so that trouble
is an unkind word for what is indeed but an opportunity acutely to
feel the joy of loving and being loved. I am happy, and the happiness
is a thousandfold increased because it comes to me warmed through you.
I am amused, and it is something to tell you and to laugh at the more
heartily by the compelling sound of your own laughter.

"Everything is new. Why, my very clothes are new. Look, here in my
left hand is my handkerchief. Only a handkerchief this morning, and to
other eyes still but a handkerchief. But to mine! Why, you have had it
in your hand and indeed it speaks to me of you. Here you laid your
arm, this was the side upon which you touched me as we sat together,
here in my hair your fingers caressed me--each and all they are new--