His name is John. “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. I’m not a lovesick boy. The manager, however, who stood in the wings, nodded to her to proceed, and the orchestra commenced the first few bars of the music. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. Denis. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman.
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