“MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. “Home, of course,” she answered. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. This is no place for me. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss.
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