I walked reflectively toward the fireplace. Should I not write to
Dorothy and tell her of Zoe's disappearance? For surely Zoe would not go
away unless she meant to stay. She had roving, adventurous blood in her,
and an English will. Could I rely upon the hope of her staying away, and
that she would not figure in my life in the future except as to the
land, the money? Yes, here my hands were stuck as in honey. And when
could they be freed and cleaned of it? While I was reflecting upon these
things Mrs. Brown walked to the mantle and taking a letter from it
handed it to me. It was from Dorothy.
"Dear James," the letter read, "I was never more depressed in my life
than I was after your departure; you must know that I would be. In the
first place, Reverdy is so very fond of you and esteems you so much, and
that counts with me. For he is the best and truest man I have ever
known. And I am sure that you are honorable and kind; and you have asked
me to be your wife, and any woman worth noticing is moved by a request
like that if she has any respect for the man whatever. But this seems to
me the most terrible situation that a girl could be placed in. I have
thought it over until my mind goes around in a circle, and I cannot
relate things clearly any more. And of course I have talked it all over
with mother.
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