Yes, my life with Lewis would have been quite cramped. A foreigner, an outsider, I would have been able neither to make a life for myself nor to blend into the life of that huge country which would never be mine. I would have been only a woman in love clinging to the man she loved. I didn't feel myself capable of living solely for love. But how weary I was of taking up each morning the empty, ponderous weight of yet another day in which I was needed by no one! Robert hadn't answered me by saying that he needed me. Never had he said that to me. Only, previously the question never arose; my life was neither necessary nor gratuitous; it was simply my life. But now, Lewis had questioned me: 'Why not stay with me, always? Why not?' And I, who had promised never to disappoint him, had answered, 'No.' That no had to be justified — and I could find no justification. His voice pursued me: 'Why not? Why not?' Suddenly, I thought, 'But nothing is irreparable!' Lewis was still alive, and so was I; we could always speak across the ocean. He had promised to write me first, in a week. If he still called to me in his letter, if his expressions of regret had the sound of a call, I would find the strength to give up my old security; I would answer, 'Yes, I'll come, I'll come to stay with you as long as you want to keep me.'