I will give it you now, and I am glad of the opportunity; it seems safer.

I have written what I feel I could never say to you.

Read it and destroy it, and never speak of what it contains.' She gave him the letter, and then he walked with her homewards.
On the morrow, shortly after breakfast, he was sitting in his study, when a knock came at the door.

He bade enter, and it was Beatrice.

She came towards him, gave her hand mechanically, and said-- 'Can you spare me a few minutes ?' He placed a chair for her.