The paper slipped from her limp fingers and she pondered, her colour deepening the while.

Nothing short of a love letter could have caused that delightful blush.

What she read was this:-- "MY DEAREST LITTLE CHARMER,-- "My soul is full of expectancy.

I can think of nothing but you--the divinest being that ever tortured the heart of man.

But the torture is exquisite because I know when I fold you in my arms it will change to bliss.