“MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. "'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. " "Bless you for it. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever.
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