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 "To return to the ever interesting author of Spoils," said Miss Lamb, as we crossed the bridge over the totally dry bed of the Monument River. "Do you not think Miss Lamb's handwriting very like a man's?"

"Oh, all literary people write alike," I made haste to say. "I wish you could see Mrs. Raynor's handwriting. It is so like Brunt's that you could scarcely tell them apart."

This was pure fiction, but the moment was critical.

"I think you must be right," Miss Lamb replied. "Do you know, I find Mr. Brunt's hand and Miss Lamb's of exactly the same character. His is naturally a little larger and bolder, but there is exactly the same turn in both."

"I have noticed it myself," said Brunt, imperturbably. "It is really singular that two people of such different temperament should write so much alike. It is enough to refute all theories as to the