Is this good-by
forever, my lady? With all my soul, I hope not.
YOUR CONTRITE STRAWBERRY MAN.
CHAPTER IX
Words are futile things with which to attempt a description of the
feelings of the girl at the Carlton as she read this, the last letter
of seven written to her through the medium of her maid, Sadie Haight.
Turning the pages of the dictionary casually, one might enlist a
few--for example, amazement, anger, unbelief, wonder. Perhaps, to
go back to the letter a, even amusement. We may leave her with the
solution to the puzzle in her hand, the Saronia a little more than
a day away, and a weirdly mixed company of emotions struggling in
her soul.
And leaving her thus, let us go back to Adelphi Terrace and a young
man exceedingly worried.
Once he knew that his letter was delivered, Mr. Geoffrey West took
his place most humbly on the anxious seat. There he writhed through
the long hours of Wednesday morning. Not to prolong this painful
picture, let us hasten to add that at three o'clock that same
afternoon came a telegram that was to end suspense. He tore it open
and read:
STRAWBERRY MAN: I shall never, never forgive, you. But we are
sailing tomorrow on the Saronia. Were you thinking of going home soon?
MARIAN A.
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