You corresponded a good deal,
you young people. Here's a packet that looks like a ring, and a cheerful sort
of a note from Mannering Papa, which I've taken the liberty of reading and
burning. The old gentleman's not pleased with you."
"And Kitty?" I asked, dully.
"Rather more drawn than her father from what she says. By the same token you
must have been letting out any number of queer reminiscences just before I met
you. 'Says that a man who would have behaved to a woman as you did to Mrs.
Wessington ought to kill himself out of sheer pity for his kind. She's a hot-
headed little virago, your mash. 'Will have it too that you were suffering
from D. T. when that row on the Jakko road turned up. 'Says she'll die before
she ever speaks to you again."
I groaned and turned over to the other side.
"Now you've got your choice, my friend. This engagement has to be broken off;
and the Mannerings don't want to be too hard on you. Was it broken through D.
T. or epileptic fits? Sorry I can't offer you a better exchange unless you'd
prefer hereditary insanity. Say the word and I'll tell 'em it's fits. All
Simla knows about that scene on the Ladies' Mile. Come! I'll give you five
minutes to think over it."
During those five minutes I believe that I explored thoroughly the lowest
circles of the Inferno which it is permitted man to tread on earth.
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