'Oh, no, I can't,' and she folded up the letter.
'Then I will,' and I'm ashamed to say I snatched the letter. Miss Dolly jumped to her feet. I fled behind the table. She ran round. I dodged.
'"Or"' I began to read.
'Stop,' cried she.
'"Or a young spendthrift like that man—I forget his name—whom you used to go on with at such a pace at Monte Carlo last winter."'
'Stop!' she cried, stamping her foot. I read on:
'"No doubt he was charming, my dear, and no doubt anybody would have thought you meant it; but I never doubted you. Still, weren't you just a little"'
'Stop!' she cried. 'You must stop, Mr. Carter.'
So then I stopped. I folded the letter and handed it back to her. Her cheeks flushed red as she took it.
'I thought you were a gentleman,' said she, biting her lip.
'I was at Monte Carlo last winter myself,' said I.
'Lord Mickleham,' said the butler, throwing open the door.
