Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter. Thinking of Mantua, she wandered to the courtyard. Over here men drink because they are lonely; and when they drink too hard and too long, they wind up on the beach. “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. It’s all very fine and all that, Vee, this freedom, but it isn’t going to work. “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. And the less “anything” happened the better.
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