It was, in his opinion, the most astonishing letter he had ever read. “I am under police surveillance,” she said. I don’t idealize you. Don’t, don’t say anything now, not anything. ’ She thrust him out of the room and made for the stairs. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. ” The hand lingered too long. Then, when the tension was getting unendurable, and she was on the verge of speaking to some casual passer-by and demanding help, her follower vanished. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. “You know nothing about the stage. Thieves and pickpockets are his constant companions.
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