The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. 5. You’ll never even see me again, for that 268 matter. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. “Think how dumb we find ourselves and stifled! I know we seem to have a sort of freedom. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one.
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