I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. She stood there limply and did not act to resist him. Poe is all right, if you don't mind nightmares. You have made for yourself a unique place upon the stage. Why? Here was a curtain indeed.
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