. ’ That arrested her. “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. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. “What did it matter?” she cried. It would be too mortifying.
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