24/30 He came back with a letter which the concierge had brought. He opened it. His astonishment grew as he read: "Monsieur, "I am neither an adventuress nor a seeker of adventures, nor am I a society woman grown weary of drawing-room conversation. Even less am I moved by the vulgar curiosity to find out whether an author is the same in the flesh as he is in his books. Indeed I am none of the things which you may think I am, from my writing to you this way. |