There are changes--omens, sinister enough to frighten me--" "Are you turning morbid ?" "I don't know, Louis.

Am I?
How can I tell?
Whom am I to ask?
I _could_ ask my own mother if I had one--even if it hurt her.

Mothers are made for pain--as we young girls are.

Miserable, wretched, deceitful, frightened as I am I _could_ tell her--tell her all....

The longing to have her, to tell her has become almost--almost unendurable--lately....
I have so much need of her....