I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. ” “What did you say?” “I said, ‘My dear Veronica! how can you think of such things?’” “And then?” “She had two more cups of tea and some cake, and told me of her walk. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation.
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