He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. He rose slowly and extended it. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go. “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. Crocodile Tears. And mind you don't arouse his suspicions.
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