But YOU won't think that, will you?
You will see him and try to help him, for my sake." And so on, eight closely written pages, ending with another plea to me to see "poor George" and help him, and begging me to "burn this letter, because I should be so ashamed to have any one else see it." It was a pitiful letter and, even in the frame of mind I was then in, disgusted with humanity and hating the entire feminine sex, I could not help feeling sorry for Nellie Dean.

Of course I was surprised at receiving such a letter and I believed, just as she begged me not to believe, that the cause of her distress and anxiety was more imaginary than real.

But that something was troubling George Taylor I had felt certain for a good while.

The idea that he did not love Nellie I knew was preposterous.

That was not it.