You are right, I am afraid, about its being a woman's trick
to make a great show of forgiving a man, and then never letting
him hear the end of it. Well, Gordon, I positively don't know
what the word "forgiving" means. It can't include "forgetting,"
for that is a physiological process, and does not result from an
act of the will. We all have a collection of memories that we
would happily lose, but somehow those are just the ones that
insist upon sticking. If "forgiving" means promising never to
speak of a thing again, I can doubtless manage that. But it
isn't always the wisest way to shut an unpleasant memory inside
you. It grows and grows, and runs all through you like a poison.

Oh dear! I really didn't mean to be saying all this. I try
to be the cheerful, carefree (and somewhat light-headed) Sallie
you like best; but I've come in touch with a great deal of
REALNESS during this last year, and I'm afraid I've grown into a
very different person from the girl you fell in love with. I'm
no longer a gay young thing playing with life. I know it pretty
thoroughly now, and that means that I can't be always laughing.

I know this is another beastly uncheerful letter,--as bad as
the last, and maybe worse,--but if you knew what we've just been
through! A boy--sixteen--of unspeakable heredity has nearly
poisoned himself with a disgusting mixture of alcohol and witch
hazel. We have been working three days over him, and are just
sure now that he is going to recuperate sufficiently to do it
again! "It's a gude warld, but they're ill that's in 't."

Please excuse that Scotch--it slipped out. Please excuse