Her Faithful Knight — page 39: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Wanderer’s Return. 35 to rest, in spite of the lateness of the hour. After finish- ing her supper, she removed the cloth and plates to the kitchen, at the back of the house, and, returning to the sitting-room, put pen, ink and paper on the table and sat down to write. : Before doing so, however, she slowly drew out, one by one, the many hairpins which held in place the twists and coils of her daintily dressed hair until it tumbled in soft, brown waves, shining golden in the high lights, about her shoulders and far down below her waist. She uttered a little sigh of relief as she finished this task. She could think more freely with the weight of luxuriant tresses | lowered from her brain, and she smiled in anticipation of what she was about to write as she sat twisting her hair into a loose plait to hang down her back for the night. - “My own darling,” so her letter began. “It is getting on one o’clock. Cresswell is in bed and the house is wonderfully quiet, but I must write and tell you of a little thing which happened to me to-day, as I know you will be interested and amused, and I shall have no time to-morrow. My story is about a Man. Actual- ly. Don’t be alarmed. He is really a stranger. I don’t think I mentioned in my former letters a very big, splen- didly-made, fair-haired male student who recently came to draw at the British Museum, and stared at me a good deal. Words altogether fail to describe the nature of his attempts at art. The white chalk objects in three-cor- nered hats with which the Board School children decorate our garden wall show infinitely more artistic power than this big young man possesses. Until I looked at his al- leged copy of the ‘Clytie’ I did not believe that any sane person could draw so badly. But perhaps you will say before I come to the end of my story that this young man is not sane.” TEOMIGCDOO “S (S@)