“You have forgotten. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. “Promise. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. ” It did begin to fall into place together. ‘I’ll handle her better alone.
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