opolitan Star Hotel"--had covered some twenty of them with his
loose, dashing hand-writing.

MY DEAR SAMMY [wrote Anthony, with admirable directness]: The boys
wanted me to sit in a little game to-night, but the truth is I have
been wanting for a long time to speak to you of a certain matter, and
to-night seems a good chance to get it off my chest. A man feels pretty
rotten writing a letter like this, but I've thought it over for more
than a month now, and I feel that no matter how badly you and I both
feel, the thing to do is not to let things go too far before we think
the thing pretty thoroughly over and make sure that things--

"What the deuce is he getting at?" said Piet, breaking off suddenly.

"Go on!" said Sammy, bright color in her cheeks.

--make sure that things are best for the happiness of all parties
[resumed Piet]. You see, Sammy [the letter ran on], as far as I am
concerned, I never would have said a word, but I have been talking
things over with a party whose name I will tell you in a minute, and
they feel as if it would be better to write before you come on. I mean
Miss Alma Fay. You don't know her. She is Lucy Barbee's cousin. Lucy
and I had a great case years ago, and she and Tom asked me up to their
house a few weeks ago, and Alma was staying with Lucy. Well, I took her
to the Hallowe'en dance, and it was a keen dance, the swellest we ever
had at the hall. Some of us rowed the girls on the river between the
dances; we had a keen time. Well, after that I took her riding once or
twice. She rides the best of any girl I ever saw; her father has the
finest horses in East Wood--I guess he counts for quite a lot up there,
he has the biggest department store and runs his own motor. Well,
Sammy, I never would of written one word of this to you, but when Alma
came to go away we both realized how it was. You know I have often had
cases, as the boys call them, and a girl I was engaged to in Petrie
told me once she hoped some day I'd get MINE. Well, she would be
pleased if she knew that I HAVE. I have not slept since--

"Sammy!" said Piet, suddenly stopping.

"Go on!" said she, again.

But Piet couldn't go on. He glanced at the next page, read, "Now,
Sammy, it is up to you to decide," skipped another page or two and
read, "Neither Alma nor I would ever be happy if--" glanced at a third;
then the leaves fluttered in wild confusion to the floor, and, with
something between a sob and a shout, he caught Sammy