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But
Amory
sighed
and
made
use
of
the
nights
.
He
had
a
snap-shot
of
Isabelle
,
enshrined
in
an
old
watch
,
and
at
eight
almost
every
night
he
would
turn
off
all
the
lights
except
the
desk
lamp
and
,
sitting
by
the
open
windows
with
the
picture
before
him
,
write
her
rapturous
letters
.
...
Oh
it
's
so
hard
to
write
you
what
I
really
feel
when
I
think
about
you
so
much
;
you
've
gotten
to
mean
to
me
a
dream
that
I
ca
n't
put
on
paper
any
more
.
Your
last
letter
came
and
it
was
wonderful
!
I
read
it
over
about
six
times
,
especially
the
last
part
,
but
I
do
wish
,
sometimes
,
you
'd
be
more
frank
and
tell
me
what
you
really
do
think
of
me
,
yet
your
last
letter
was
too
good
to
be
true
,
and
I
can
hardly
wait
until
June
!
Be
sure
and
be
able
to
come
to
the
prom
.
It
'll
be
fine
,
I
think
,
and
I
want
to
bring
you
just
at
the
end
of
a
wonderful
year
.
I
often
think
over
what
