.

AN EVENING CALL.
In the morning, when he left for the city, she was not down.

When he came home in the evening, she was gone.

Without removing his hat or overcoat, he took the letter which he found propped up on the mantelpiece and addressed to him to the window and read it.
DEAR BROTHER LEONARD,--It wasn't your fault and I don't think it was mine.

If either of us is to blame, it is certainly I, for though you are such a clever and ambitious young person, you really know very little indeed of the world,--not so much, I think, as I do.