He returned to the car, Cokes in hand. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. “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. “As it is doubtful whether the man will live, we should be glad if you would identify him. It had ceased to beat.
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