" "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. S. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. Or felt it. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. He drove to his apartment, a second floor studio he 120 was renting above a bakery. ‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman.
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