Mary Marie - LightNovelsOnl.com
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But I wasn't even thinking of that. I was thinking of Eunice, and of that round, childish scrawl of a diary upstairs in the attic trunk.
And I was picturing Eunice, in the years to come, writing _her_ diary; and I thought, what if she should have to--
I went upstairs then and read that diary again. And all the while I was reading I thought of Eunice. And when it was finished I knew that I'd never tell Mother, that I'd never write to Jerry--not the letter that I was going to write. I knew that--
They brought Jerry's letter to me at just that point. What a wonderful letter that man can write--when he wants to!
He says he's lonesome and homesick, and that the house is like a tomb without Eunice and me, and when _am_ I coming home?
I wrote him to-night that I was going--to-morrow.
THE END
