“MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. He must know she’ll be at a convent. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. Sheppard. " "En-shad-ay. ” His rhythm slowed to a grind. Mr. There was no one to be seen. Master, your humble servant. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. Her heart swelled to suffocation. “Well,” he said at last slowly, “I’ll pay it.
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