The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. “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.
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