Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. Accordingly, on their presentation, Mr. A quarter of an hour passed. Men usually do. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON.
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