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Updated: May 8, 2025
But, my darling, you are perfectly exhausted, and though I have asked you a half an hundred questions you shall not reply to one of them, nor talk a bit more until you have rested and had refreshment. Here, my love; here is Traverse's last letter.
But, my darling, you are perfectly exhausted, and though I have asked you a half an hundred questions you shall not reply to one of them, nor talk a bit more until you have rested and had refreshment. Here, my love; here is Traverse's last letter.
One evening after the usual business matters were disposed of, the society proceeded to elect new officers for the ensuing quarter, and Guy Traverse's popularity was sufficient to place him in the highest office in the gift of the society.
To be sure, these extracts were mostly descriptions of places that the writer had visited, or accounts of amusing episodes met with while travelling; but there lingered an undefined impression on Guy Traverse's mind that these letters were not so sacred as one would naturally suppose they should be if the writer were dear to the heart of the recipient.
There was the dresser with its glistening crockery ware on the right, and the shelves with Traverse's old school books on the left of the fireplace. The widow herself had changed in nothing except that her clean black dress was threadbare and rusty, and her patient face whiter and thinner than before. And now there was no eager restlessness: no frequent listening and looking toward the door.
As the fever began to subside Traverse's practice declined, and about the middle of November his "occupation was gone." We said that his office was in the most respectable locality in the city; it was, in fact, on the ground floor of a first-class hotel.
However, I shall no distract Traverse's attention by showing him these letters until he has told me the full history of his arrest, for I wish him to give me a cool account of the whole thing, so that I may know if I can possible server him.
Traverse's room was a large, pleasant apartment at the end of a wide, long hall, on each side of which were the doors opening into the cells of the patients. Fatigued by his journey, Traverse slept soundly through the night; but early in the morning he was rudely awakened by the sounds of maniac voices from the cells.
It was dreary to rise up in the empty house every morning; dreary to sit down to her solitary meals, and drearier still to go to bed in her lonely room without having received her boy's kiss and heard his cheerful good-night. And it was her custom every night to read over Traverse's last letter before retiring to bed.
However, I shall not distract Traverse's attention by showing him these letters until he has told me the full history of his arrest, for I wish him to give me a cool account of the whole thing, so that I may know if I can possibly serve him.
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