It's no use telling me that I must not use these words of affection; they come to my lips and to my pen irresistibly.

You know so well that I love you with all my heart and soul; I can't address you like I did when we first corresponded.

My darling! My dear, sweet, beautiful little girl--' Four close pages of this, with scarce room at the end for 'E.W.' When she had gone through it, Monica turned her face upon the pillow and lay so for a long time.

A clock in the house struck eleven; this roused her, and she slipped out of the bed to hide the letter in her dress-pocket.

Not long after she was asleep.
The next day, on returning from her work and opening the sitting-room door, Mildred Vesper was greeted with a merry laugh.