Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

Your note written in your own hand--and a pretty wobbly hand!--
came this morning. I am so sorry that you have been ill; I wouldn\'t
have bothered you with my affairs if I had known. Yes, I will tell you
the trouble, but it\'s sort of complicated to write, and VERY PRIVATE.
Please don\'t keep this letter, but burn it.

Before I begin--here\'s a cheque for one thousand dollars.
It seems funny, doesn\'t it, for me to be sending a cheque to you?
Where do you think I got it?

I\'ve sold my story, Daddy. It\'s going to be published serially
in seven parts, and then in a book! You might think I\'d be wild
with joy, but I\'m not. I\'m entirely apathetic. Of course I\'m glad
to begin paying you--I owe you over two thousand more. It\'s coming
in instalments. Now don\'t be horrid, please, about taking it,
because it makes me happy to return it. I owe you a great deal
more than the mere money, and the rest I will continue to pay all
my life in gratitude and affection.

And now, Daddy, about the other thing; please give me your most
worldly advice, whether you think I\'ll like it or not.

You know that I\'ve always had a very special feeling towards you;
you sort of represented my whole family; but you won\'t mind, will you,
if I tell you that I have a very much more special feeling for
another man? You can probably guess without much trouble who he is.
I suspect that my letters have been very full of Master Jervie for a
very long time.

I wish I could make you understand what he is like and how entirely
companionable we are. We think the same about everything--
I am afraid I have a tendency to make over my ideas to match his!
But he is almost always right; he ought to be, you know,
for he has fourteen years\' start of me. In other ways, though,
he\'s just an overgrown boy, and he does need looking after--
he hasn\'t any sense about wearing rubbers when it rains. He and I
always think the same things are funny, and that is such a lot;
it\'s dreadful when two people\'s senses of humour are antagonistic.
I don\'t believe there\'s any bridging that gulf!

And he is--Oh, well! He is just himself, and I miss him, and miss him,
and miss him. The whole world seems empty and aching. I hate the
moonlight because it\'s beautiful and he isn\'t here to see it with me.
But maybe you\'ve loved somebody, too, and you know? If you have,
I don\'t need to explain; if you haven\'t, I can\'t explain.

Anyway, that\'s the way I feel--and I\'ve refused to marry him.

I didn\'t tell him why; I was just dumb and miserable. I couldn\'t
think of anythin............