The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. ‘I don’t want that girl running her head into any more danger. “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. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her. Honestly, I never did. To have spoken lightly on such a subject a few hours ago would have seemed incredible.
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