Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. “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 did not learn that in a convent. His five o’clock shadow was bristly against her fingers.
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