“Dear, it is not at all bad in town—­not that murderous, humid heat that you think I’m up against; and you must stop reproaching yourself for enjoying the delicious breezes in the Adirondacks.  Women don’t know what a jolly time men have in town.  Follows the chronical of this August day: 

“I had your letter; that is breeze enough for me; it was all full of blue sky and big white clouds and the scent of Adirondack pines.  Isn’t it jolly for you and Kathleen to be at the Varicks’ camp!  And what a jolly crowd you’ve run into.

“I note what you say about your return to the Berkshires, and that you expect to be at Berkshire Pass Inn with the motor on Monday.  Give my love to Naida; I know you three and young Montross will have a bully tour through the hill country.

“I also note your red-pencil cross at the top of the page—­which always gives me, as soon as I open a letter of yours, the assurance that all is still well with you and that victory still remains with you.  Thank God!  Stand steady, little girl, for the shadows are flying and the dawn is ours.

“After your letter, breakfast with father—­a rather silent one.  Then he went down-town in his car and I walked to the studio.  It’s one of those stable-like studios which decorate the cross-streets in the 50’s, but big enough to work in.

“A rather bothersome bit of news:  the Trust Company reconsiders its commission; and I have three lunettes and three big mural panels practically completed.  For a while I’ll admit I had the blues, but, after all, some day the Trust Company is likely to take up the thing again and give me the commission.  Anyway, I’ve had a corking time doing the things, and lots of valuable practice in handling a big job and covering large surfaces; and the problem has been most exciting and interesting because, you see, I’ve had to solve it, taking into consideration the architecture and certain fixed keys and standards, such as the local colour and texture of the marble and the limitations of the light area.  Don’t turn up your pretty nose; it’s all very interesting.

    “I didn’t bother about luncheon; and about five I went to the club,
    rather tired in my spinal column and arm-weary.

“Nobody was there whom you know except Delancy Grandcourt and Dysart.  The latter certainly looks very haggard.  I do not like him personally, as you know, but the man looks ill and old and the papers are becoming bolder in what they hint at concerning him and the operations he was, and is still supposed to be, connected with; and it is deplorable to see such a physical change in any human being, guilty or innocent.  I do not like to see pain; I never did.  For Dysart I have no use at all, but he is suffering, and it is difficult to contemplate any suffering unmoved.

“There was a letter at the club