He often tries to do this with me. However I flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my mirror. Do you ever try to read your thoughts and feelings from your own face? I do, and I can tell you it is not a bad exercise. If you have never tried it, it is harder to do than you can well imagine. He says that I have an interesting psychological character, and I humbly think I have. I do not, as you know, take sufficient interest in clothing to be able to describe the new fashions. It is a bore. That is slang again, but never mind; Arthur says that every day.

There, you know how I feel. Mina, we have told all our secrets to each other since we were children; we have slept together and eaten together, and laughed and cried together. Now, though I have told you about it, I would like to say more. Oh, Mina, couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I write. Although I think he loves me, he has not told me so in words. But oh, Mina, I love him; I love him; I love him! There, I feel better now.

I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we used to sit; and I would try to tell you what I feel. I do not know how I am writing this, even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I will tear up the letter. Anyway I don't want to stop, for I do so want to tell you everything. Let me hear from you at once, and tell me all that you think about it. Mina, I must stop. Good-night. Remember me in your prayers; and, Mina, pray for my happiness.

Lucy

P.S. I do not have to tell you that this is a secret. Good-night again.