When I arrived in Paris, your tears breaking out again and again all through the evening, and falling over your cheeks like rain as we sat at dinner first at Voisin's, at supper at Paillard's afterwards, the unfeigned joy you evinced at seeing me, holding my hand whenever you could, as though you were a gentle and penitent child; your contrition, so simple and sincere at the moment made me consent to renew our friendship.

Two days after we had returned to London, your father saw you having luncheon with me at the Cafe Royal, joined my table, drank of my wine, and that afternoon, through a letter addressed to you, began his first attack on me....

It may be strange, but I had once again, I will not say the chance, but the duty, of separating from you forced on me.

I need hardly remind you that I refer to your conduct to me at Brighton from October 10th to 13th, 1894.

Three years is a long time for you to go back.