A LOVE LETTER

Dominion, Volume 19, Issue 89, 9 January 1926, Page 20

A LOVE LETTER

“Dear, dear Girl,” he wrote, Fwliat will you think, I wonder, when you receive this letter from me? Perhaps by now — for the weeks havs? slipped by since that silvery evening when you and I planned so many brave things together—l am but a ghost to you; the ghost, maybe, of a man you only dimly remember. “Yet you are no ghost to me. You are still very, very real; as real as you were in tho yesterdays when wo bathed, and golfed, and walked together. Little things, with the strange magic possessed by little things, arc for ever conjuring you up before me. The lilt of a dance tune, the scent of a flower, a chance word, even the railway companies' posters on tho hoardings. All these things call to me of you. Yesterday it rained hero, and the water on the window panes sketched your portrait—a slim sprite in a raincoat, poised ou a high hill.

‘‘Ah, one does not forget! One. never forgets the happy days, gii4. Memory treasures for us tho golden moments even as a jeweller treasures his rare gems. Time! Yet what is Time to such as us? Can Timo steal away the kisses once given? Can Time filch from us the remembrance of those words once said. ‘I love you’? “No, no. girl, there are some things that never can be forgotten. . . .” But he never finished the letter. Good as it seemed to him, he realised that, it. was quite wasted. He could not remember her address. —Maurice LaneNorcott in the “Daily Mail.”