“Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. “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. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. And lunged once more.
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