Suddenly he broke into a violent sobbing, and said he would never see me again because he felt that everything was at an end--this very painful incident lasted about three-quarters of an hour.
He talked about various things which I can scarcely repeat here.

Though it was very harrowing, I really did not attach any importance to my farewell, and I did not respond to poor Oscar's emotion as I ought to have done, especially as he said, when I was going out of the room, "Look out for some little cup in the hills near Nice where I can go when I am better, and where you can come and see me often." Those were the last articulate words he ever spoke to me.
I left for Nice the following evening, November 13th.
During my absence Reggie went every day to see Oscar, and wrote me short bulletins every other day.

Oscar went out several times with him driving, and seemed much better.

On Tuesday, November 27th, I received the first of Reggie's letters, which I enclose (the others came after I had started), and I started back for Paris; I send them because they will give you a very good idea of how things stood.

I had decided that when I had moved my mother to Mentone on the following Friday, I would go to Paris on Saturday, but on the Wednesday evening, at five-thirty, I got a telegram from Reggie saying, "Almost hopeless." I just caught the express and arrived in Paris at 10.20 in the morning.