Excerpt from High Noon
This story begins with a letter: -
Dear Mr. Stafford, - I am in rather peculiar circumstances, and so I am going to make a peculiar request of you. Since I came to know you so well, in our two weeks' quarantine, you have been very dear to me. If you were a woman, I should have said so long ago, and tried to make you a familiar friend. If I had been a man, I should have run in, at least three times a week, to smoke a pipe with you; and we might have heard the chimes at midnight. But being what we are, and the fabric of our social system being what it is, I acquiesce in the fact that you probably knew best how to order your own affairs.
Some days ago I learned, quite by accident (for the family meant to keep the secret to themselves), that I am not to live many weeks. Yet I am very comfortable, and I crave a little more of life than life seems likely to offer me.
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