“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. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to you. Shari’s eyes widened, “You mean it?” “I’m all yours, head to toe.
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