"Poor
Tommy. He's still a boy. He was ever a boy, trying sometimes, as now,
to be a man. But always, when he looked round, he saw his boyhood
holding out its arms to him, calling him back to play.
He was so fond of being a boy that he could not grow up.
In a younger world, where there were only boys and girls he might have been a gallant figure. Ah! If he could have loved in this way, no-one would have been more loved than she.
He knew it was tragic that such love as hers, should be given to him.
What more could he do than he was doing? He could not make himself anew. And boys cannot love. Is it not cruel to ask a boy to love?"
He was so fond of being a boy that he could not grow up.
In a younger world, where there were only boys and girls he might have been a gallant figure. Ah! If he could have loved in this way, no-one would have been more loved than she.
He knew it was tragic that such love as hers, should be given to him.
What more could he do than he was doing? He could not make himself anew. And boys cannot love. Is it not cruel to ask a boy to love?"
