Other letters went forward by succeeding posts, and there was no
doubt now, that O'Reilly's pen was tipped with magic! He tingled
when he reread what he had written. He bade Rosa prepare for his
return and their immediate marriage. The fun and the excitement of
planning their future caused him to fill page after page with
thrilling details of the flat-hunting, home-fitting excursions
they would take upon their return to New York. He wrote her
ecstatic descriptions of a suite of Grand Rapids furniture he had
priced; he wasted a thousand emotional words over a set of china
he had picked out, and the results of a preliminary trip into the
apartment-house district required a convulsive three-part letter
to relate. It is remarkable with what poetic fervor, what strength
of feeling, a lover can describe a five-room flat; with what
glories he can furnish it out of a modest salary and still leave
enough for a life of luxury.
But O'Reilly's letters did not always touch upon practical things;
there was a wide streak of romance in him, and much of what he
wrote was the sort of thing which romantic lovers always write--
tender, foolish, worshipful thoughts which half abashed him when
he read them over. But that Rosa would thrill to them he had no
doubt, nor had he any fear that she would hesitate to leave her
native land for him.
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