But I have decided that it would be unwise . It would only pain her , so I shall destroy it when I feel the time has come . It is sunset in this wonderful summer land . At home in Sweetwater it is only early spring as yet , with snow lingering along the edges of the woods . The sunsets there will be creamy-yellow and pale red now . If I could but see them once more ! And Sylvia -- There was a little blot where the pen had fallen . Evidently the end had been nearer than Alan Blair had thought . At least , there were no more entries , and the little green book had not been destroyed . I was glad that it had not been ; and I felt glad that it was thus put in my power to write the last chapter of Miss Sylvia 's story for her . As soon as I could leave Sweetwater I went to the city , three hundred miles away , where Miss Sylvia lived . I found her in her library , in her black silk dress and heliotrope shawl , knitting up cream wool , for all the world as if she had just been transplanted from the veranda corner of Harbour Light . `` My dear boy ! '' she said . `` Do you know why I have come ? '' I asked . `` I am vain enough to think it was because you wanted to see me , '' she smiled . `` I did want to see you ; but I would have waited until summer if it had not been that I wished to bring you the missing chapter of your story , dear lady . '' `` I -- I -- do n't understand , '' said Miss Sylvia , starting slightly . `` I had an uncle , Alan Blair , who died forty years ago in California , '' I said quietly .
`` Recently I have had occasion XXXXX examine some of his papers .
At If as because for in of so that to