old girl," wrote Miss Watkins. "If you
know of anything near you that would suit me, pass it on. I think I'm
about due to get out of here. You know why I've stayed so long. At
first, I thought if we were together enough he might get to care.
People say I'm not bad for the eyes. And I don't use peroxide. Well,
I've made myself useful--he'll miss me anyway!

"It's kind of hard to give up. But I don't believe it's a bit of use.
I've noticed a difference in him ever since he came back from that
western trip. He doesn't seem to see me anymore. And there's something
else, a look in his eyes and a line along his mouth that were never
there before. I knew something had happened. And now I know what it
was. Another girl, of course.

"And this girl is married!

"You might think this would make things hopeful for me. But it doesn't.
Doctor's just the kind that would go on loving her if she had a
thousand husbands. So here's where I hook it. No use wasting myself,
honey. Maybe I'll get over it. They say everyone does.

"Funny thing--she's just the kind I'd think he'd go dippy over, dark
and still, with a lovely, wide mouth and skin like lilies. She is
young, younger than I am. But, believe me, she isn't a kid. Those eyes
of hers have seen things. They're the kind of eyes that I'd go wild
over if I were a man. So I'm not blaming Doctor. He can't help it.

"She came into the office today, just like an ordinary patient. But I
knew right off that she'd come for some-thing. Don't know yet what she
came for. She doesn't give herself away, that one! Didn't seem to look
around, didn't ask questions and only stayed a few minutes. Do you
suppose she could have come to see me? Because, if she did--Well, that
shows where her interest is.

"Another odd thing--as she went out, I saw her husband. (I'll tell you,
in strict confidence, that her husband is Professor Spence. They are
well known people here. He used to be a sort of recluse. A queer chap.
Deep as a judge.) Well, I saw him pass, on the opposite side of the
road. He saw her and was just going to call, when it seemed to strike
him where she had come from. I couldn't see very well across the road,
but he looked as if someone had hit him. And he went on without saying
a word. Now that looked queer to me.

"Don't write and say that I'm only guessing at things. I may be
mistaken, of course, but I know I'm not. And I'm not a Pharisee (or
whoever it was that threw stones). If she cares