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“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. ‘I feared as much. I was forced to lay on a bed of nails for three days. And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face. After all a thousand pounds is a trifle to rid you of an upstart, who may chance to deprive you of tens of thousands. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. ” She said as the car stopped. “Good-looking rascal she met at Worthing. She told us that it was a disguise. Understand me.
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