He never used to want me; he used to think this place dull, and long to get away from it--and from me, for that matter.

But now he's--he's wounded, as you know; maimed, my poor boy, for life; and--and he's counting on me to make his home for him.

We never thought of that.

He says it wouldn't be home without me; and he asked my pardon for being selfish in the past; my poor Peter! I used to fear he had such a little, cold heart; but I was all wrong, for when he was so far away he thought of me, and was sorry he hadn't loved me more.

He's come home wanting to be everything to me, as I am to be everything to him.