She drove me. She went to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me sing in Paris. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. “I made two fruit pies and now I have no one to eat them. “You are a thousand times more beautiful,” he said, “than anything else could be. ” The wonderful likeness between the two girls was never less noticeable than at that moment. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. “The fellow seems to know your name, Miss Pellissier, and that you have lived in Paris.
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