“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. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. " "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. That’s all about it. F. \" He perked up, ready to make conversation. But, you see, I’m smirched. ” “No.
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