It’s John. Wood. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided. Ruth took hers in the sea, but was careful never to go beyond her depth because of the sharks. She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink. “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.
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