But I shan't forget you; you've been a good friend to me." Her voice faltered a little as she said: "I wish you'd write to me and let me know how you are ?" "Oh, don't expect that of me.

I chew my tongue like a ten-year-old kid when I write.

I never was any good at it, and I'm clear out of it now.
The chances are I'll round up in the mountains again; I can't see how I'd make a living anywhere else.

If I come back this way I'll let you know." Neither of them was eating now, and the tension was great.

She knew that no artifice could keep him, and he was aware of her emotion and was eager to escape.
He pushed back his chair at last, and she arose and came toward him and took his hand, standing so close to him that her bosom almost touched his shoulder.
"I hate to see you go!" she said, and the passionate tremor in her voice moved him very deeply.