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Evening.

It was George who came this afternoon.

"Oh," I cried, "I am alone again, except Tom, who is taking a Russian lesson in there," indicating the library.

"I am glad you are prudent enough to stay in the house until you get better of your cold."

"I am saving myself for the next court ball," I responded confidentially.

Count Piloff seated himself on a little causeuse, and I placed myself by his side. He looked startled for a second, but I paid no attention. I was determined to make myself agreeable, and to show that my dislike for him had vanished.

"I have just read your letter," I began.

He smiled somewhat uneasily as he said, "Are you quite sure that you read to the end?"

"Quite, and I—" I was going to say that I enjoyed it very much, but I checked myself in time,—"I am very glad you wrote it."

"You are kind," he said formally.

"I wish to correct an impression which you seem to have," I went on courageously. "You have mentioned it several times, and you are quite mistaken about it" (getting a trifle incoherent in my words, but clinging to my idea). "I do not dislike or despise you, Count Piloff. I acknowledge that I used to do so, and I tried to prejudice Judith against you. But I don't dislike you at all now, and I think in time" (looking at him for encouragement, but meeting only a view of one brown