"I was," answered Sheppard. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. We are not altogether strangers, are we? I feel that under the circumstances I have the right to offer you my advice, and if necessary my help.
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