'All right,' he said. 'Listen,' and read again, but only one stanza this time and closed the book and laid it on the table. 'She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,' McCaslin said: 'Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair.'
I hope York is treating you with some kindness. How are things (you know those ever so vague 'things') going? I hope the house and the course are as you hoped.
I must say I'm going to miss our little nights in Will's. Oh well. I guess nothing stays the same for long.
Well, although it may have nothing to do with it, I wish you luck.
