” She set the letter down, and drew from her pocket another with a foreign post mark which had come the day before. But she certainly remembered that when she was a little girl he sometimes wore tennis flannels, and also rode a bicycle very dexterously in through the gates to the front door. I want to be myself. I was compelled to run away. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. I’d need to be out of my senses.
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