Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. “Then—then we can talk things out. The door opened. I know you’re young but I think I, no, I know that I love you. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. “She cannot be aware,” he continued, “that she is making herself conspicuous. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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