Yet he stays. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. Though it’s very kind of you. I can’t but feel it’s an undesirable complication to drag in the Charvills at this point. These passers-by who touch us but lightly and are gone, leaving the eternal imprint! So long as she lived, Ruth would always remember that embrace. For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart.
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