WHAT AM I THAT I SHOULD DO THIS THING?
"At last!" He sat with the letter before him after he had breakfasted, and perhaps for a time, say a minute or so, he caught a glimpse of the nature of the woman who had written those lines to him.

If he had not had some appreciation of her nature he would have spent an hour or two--perhaps a day or two--trying to reconcile her attitude of the previous night with the tone of her letter.

He did not, however, waste his time over such an endeavor.

He knew that she loved him, and that she did not love her husband.

He knew that she had allowed him to kiss her, and it had been a puzzle to him for some months why she had not come to his arms forever--he meant her to be his own property forever.