" "Pshaw!" said Wild. "Your son is a lad of spirit, Mr. "You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland—short accounts, you know. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. “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. The applause was uproarious at the end of the concert. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie.
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