CHAPTER XXIII.
A FRIEND'S COUNSEL When Piers went to dress that night he found two letters laid discreetly upon his table, awaiting perusal.
Victor, busily engaged in laying out his clothes, cast a wicked eye back over his shoulder as his young master pounced upon them, then with a shrug resumed his task, smiling to himself the while.
Both letters were addressed in womanly handwriting, but Piers went unerringly to the one he most desired to read.

His hands shook a little as he opened it, but he caught sight of his Christian name at the head of it and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Dear Piers,"-- so in clear, decided writing the message ran,--"I have wondered many times if I ought to be angry as well as sorry over that letter of yours.

It was audacious, wasn't it?
Only I know so well that you did not mean to hurt me when you wrote it.

But, Piers, what I said before, you compel me to say again.

This thing must stop.