The strangest thing! Last evening while Auntie was attending one of the
hotel hops (I hate them) Dr. Barritz called. It was scandalously late--I
actually believe that he had talked with Auntie in the ballroom and
learned from her that I was alone. I had been all the evening contriving
how to worm out of him the truth about his connection with the Thugs in
Sepoy, and all of that black business, but the moment he fixed his eyes
on me (for I admitted him, I'm ashamed to say) I was helpless. I
trembled, I blushed, I--O Irene, Irene, I love the man beyond expression
and you know how it is yourself.
Fancy! I, an ugly duckling from Redhorse--daughter (they say) of old
Calamity Jim--certainly his heiress, with no living relation but an
absurd old aunt who spoils me a thousand and fifty ways--absolutely
destitute of everything but a million dollars and a hope in Paris,--I
daring to love a god like him! My dear, if I had you here I could tear
your hair out with mortification.
I am convinced that he is aware of my feeling, for he stayed but a few
moments, said nothing but what another man might have said half as well,
and pretending that he had an engagement went away. I learned to-day (a
little bird told me--the bell-bird) that he went straight to bed. How
does that strike you as evidence of exemplary habits?