Somewhat later in the Spring Pelleas was obliged to spend one whole day
out of town. He was vastly important over the circumstance and packed
his bag two days before, which alone proves his advancing years. For
formerly his way had been to complete his packing in the cab on his
way to the train at that moment pulling from the station. Now he gave
himself an hour to reach the ferry to allow for being blocked.
“Yes, that alone would prove that we are seventy,” I said sadly as I
stood at the window watching him drive away.
Yet if ever a good fairy grants you one wish I advise your wishing that
when you are seventy your heart and some one else’s heart will be as
heavy at a separation as are ours.
“Pelleas,” I had said to him that morning, “I wish that every one in
the world could love some one as much as I love you.”