A message was dispatched from Florence that she was to again receive her future husband. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. She ran away from you; and now I can easily understand why. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like.
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