ful women I had
ever beheld. She was about twenty years of age, above the medium height
and her form was molded in the most exquisite manner. Her face was
really lovely, her features faultless, her complexion fair as Parian
marble and yet the hue of health was on her cheeks--the white and red
contrasting in admirable manner. Her hair was a dark glossy brown and
hung in natural ringlets on her snowy neck and shoulders. Her bosom was
full, voluptuous and beautifully rounded. Her hands and feet were
small, almost to a fault, her carriage was full of grace and when she
smiled she allowed to be seen a row of pearly teeth which, if they had
been cut out of a solid piece of ivory, could not have been more
regular.

When I was introduced to her she received me with a good deal of warmth
in her manner and observed that she was certain we would be good
friends. During the evening she asked me if I had any objections to her
sleeping with me, as she was too timid to sleep alone. I replied that I
should be very happy for her to share my bed. We retired early as she
was tired from her journey. She undressed very quickly and was soon
between the sheets. I quickly followed her example. The moment I lay by
her side she clasped me in her arms and pressed a warm kiss on my lips.
I returned it, for I began to feel attracted by this delicious
creature, and the warm contact of her beautiful semiglobes to mine sent
a thrill through me. But we made no further progress that night,
confining ourselves to conversation only. She asked me a great many
questions concerning Herbert Clarence, as to "how I liked him," "how he
behaved towards me," and a hundred other interrogatories. At last we
went to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning I found Miss Denmead already risen. I got
up, dressed myself and went down to seek her. I searched the house and
found she was not there, and then came to the conclusion that she must
have gone into the garden for a stroll. I followed and directed my
steps to a summer-house situated at the bottom of the lawn. The pathway
that led to it was of grass so that the sound of footsteps could not be
heard. When I approached the arbor I heard the rustling of a dress
inside, and instead of opening the door I peeped through the keyhole.
Great God! I saw a sight which sent the blood boiling through my veins.
Herbert Clarence was reclining on his back on a divan which he had
drawn into the middle of the floor. His pantaloons wer