I am perfectly well, but the country here has become distasteful to me, and I am going to town in a few minutes.

I want to get away--I want to go back to my work--earn my living again--live in blessed self-respect where, as a worker, I have the right to live.
"Dearest, I am sorry about not meeting you at the station and going back to town with you.

But I simply cannot endure staying here after last night.

I suppose it is weak and silly of me, but I feel now as though your family would never be perfectly tranquil again until I am out of their immediate vicinity.

I cannot convey to you or to them how sorry and how distressed I am that this thing has occurred.
"But I can, perhaps, make you understand that I love you, dearly--love you enough to give myself to you--love you enough to give you up forever.
"And it is to consider what is best, what to do, that I am going away quietly somewhere by myself to think it all out once more--and to come to a final decision before the first of June.
"I want to search my heart, and let God search it for any secret selfishness and unworthiness that might sway me in my choice--any overmastering love for you that might blind me.