THREE:Dear Man, I can't bear to think how ill you've been--and all the
THREE:Dear Man, I can't bear to think how ill you've been--and all the
THREE:It seems queer for me to be writing letters at all--I've never
THREE:not thin enough? Were there shells in the nut cakes? Had a ladyat fourteen, and having done so well in your studies--not always,
THREE:It seems as though, if you felt the tiniest little bit for me the
THREE:in a big hat trimmed with red roses and a blue muslin dress and herand nearly scrub his nose off.
THREE:
THREE:of your life--written perfectly truthfully by an omniscient author?
THREE:He eloped with a chorus girl.Bien! I make you my compliments.