‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. “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. ‘You cannot be always with me. He was in great pain and it meant that he would be in casts for twelve weeks. ” He was a little uneasy. 47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain.
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