AND after some days my friend Annabel Lee wrote me this upon a square of rice paper:
Dear Mary MacLane:—Don't you know a gorgon is the knowingest thing in the land?
You may believe what your friend says of fair lilies.
But have I ever said that I am a fair lily?
As for my eyes—they are good chiefly to see with. And they are bad for many things.
Yes—get thee home soon, child.
I miss you when I come to deck me mornings with my lavender slip and my scarlet frock. And the gold marguerites have not been brushed since you went away.
Naught have I to bear me company except Ellen, the faithful little tan deer—and she can not wait upon me, and she cannot worship me.
What hast done with Martha Goneril the cat?
I would fain you had left her here.
But Mary MacLane—you. Do you know about it?