The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. “You haven’t come here to make a lot of difficulties?” she asked. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. CHAPTER II. “I’m not so sure.
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