And of your mole-hill virtues he made splendid mountains.

He only interfered with you when he was afraid that you were going to hurt some one else whom he also loved.

Once I had a telegram from him which urged me for heaven's sake not to forget that the next day was my wife's birthday.

Whether I had forgotten it or not is my own private affair.

And when I declared that I had read a story which I liked very, very much and was going to write to the author to tell him so, he always kept at me till the letter was written.
Have I said that he had no habits?
Every day, when he was away from her, he wrote a letter to his mother, and no swift scrawl at that, for, no matter how crowded and eventful the day, he wrote her the best letter that he could write.