Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. “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. This—all this swamps them. ” He got up and went to the guest room door and locked it. With a little more meat on him, he would be handsome.
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