been Luke coming in late--the Tallants' hall door makes a particularly
Kismetish bang. That was our real parting, though it wasn't the last.
He wrote to me--a bitter sort of farewell. And I did a mad thing. I
went to see him in his rooms. But when I got there, his manner--
something he said which offended me--one can't explain the
unexplainable--started the scene all over again. It was as if a
mocking demon came up between us. That time it was I who left him. The
next thing I heard was that he and Mademoiselle Croesus were engaged.

I wrote to him--I know it wasn't the proper sort of letter--I daresay
he saw through my pretended indifference. He sent me back my letters as
I had asked him to do--wrote me in quite the right strain--said he
was not worthy of me--that I'd shewn him I was far above him--that he
might not presume to think I could be happy with a man of his
inadequate means and position--that he could never forget me--and so
on--but that it was best as it is.

And now I've got to get what consolation I can out of my own inner
conviction--that it IS best as it is, and that I ought to be thankful
for being still Bridget O'Hara, mistress of my own fate, and free yet
to sport about--sport!--oh, the irony of it--in what you call the
stormy sea of my emotions.

I make over to you the copyright of my sufferings.'

The letter broke off abruptly. It was resumed on another sheet six
weeks later at Gaverick Castle.

'Rosamond Tallant has just sent me a writing case I left at their house
with these pages in it. I daren't read them over, but they'll give you