“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. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. Brendon always comes home with me, and tonight both are away. On the orders of Mr Jarvis, that were. He might not condone it, but the feelings that had prompted it augured well for Melusine’s safety. Disappointed puppy-love, and all that. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. If he escapes at all, it must be before our faces.
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