At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. It wasn’t clear to me that I had to explain. I fought. She ran away from you; and now I can easily understand why. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. "Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. It’s a pure joy of giving—giving to YOU.
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