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. Wood, in equal trepidation. “You see you do not know how much of truth there is in his story. “Can you come out tonight?” “Um, sure, I guess. ’ ‘Not French?’ echoed Hilary.
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