{"id":1241,"date":"2019-02-14T23:51:20","date_gmt":"2019-02-15T04:51:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1241"},"modified":"2020-07-20T18:28:29","modified_gmt":"2020-07-20T22:28:29","slug":"one-word-from-you","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/one-word-from-you\/","title":{"rendered":"One Word from You"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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One Word from You<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Susanne Dietze<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Based on Pride and Prejudice<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Urged by her family to marry for the sake of their dwindling finances, Eliza Branch prefers to pay for the remainder of her time at the Austen Academy by writing for the local paper. There\u2019s plenty to write about now that railroad baron William Delacourt has come to Austin. His proposed northbound line may be good for local business, but she\u2019s still stinging from his terrible first impression. If the rumors about William are true, then he deserves to be skewered in print. But when Eliza\u2019s pen gets ahead of her conscience, it\u2019s William who makes everything right\u2014and the reasons behind his sacrifice just might be the story of Eliza\u2019s lifetime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Based on Pride and Prejudice<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

October,\n1883<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf it is indeed a\ntruth universally acknowledged that a bachelor in possession of a lucrative\ncattle ranch must be in want of a wife, then Mr. Cray will be swapping vows\nbefore calving season.\u201d Merriment pulled at Eliza Branch\u2019s lips as she gazed\npast her parents at the darkness beyond the carriage window. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t need\nour assistance to find a suitable bride.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is no time\nfor your odd sense of humor, Eliza.\u201d The carriage bumped over a pothole, and\nMother sucked in a hissing breath. \u201cThis headache!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\nMother. I didn\u2019t mean to upset you. Are you ill?\u201d Eliza bit the finger-seam of\nher glove and tugged, baring her arm to the evening cool. She cupped her hand\nover Mother\u2019s smooth cheek. \u201cYou don\u2019t have a fever.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mother\u2019s head\njerked back. \u201cStill a hoyden after months of finishing school. Can no one\npersuade you to stop undressing with your teeth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t rip the\nseam this time.\u201d Eliza patted Mother\u2019s knee. \u201cLet\u2019s turn back home. The Hales\nwill understand if you\u2019re too ill to attend the gala.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour mother\u2019s\nfine,\u201d Father drawled. \u201cHot with determination, is all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo thanks to you,\nGeorge.\u201d Mother\u2019s eyes flashed glossy as ink in the moonlight. \u201cNow Eliza must\nwed Hezekiah Cray with too much haste for a proper society wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2014what<\/em>?\u201d A nauseating sensation coiled in\nEliza\u2019s stomach, just as it did during her recurring nightmare of arriving\ntardy for a French exam at her finishing school, the Jeannette C. Austen\nAcademy for Young Ladies. In those dreams, she couldn\u2019t recognize the\nconjugations on the chalkboard. But Mother\u2019s perplexing words boded a far worse\nfate than poor marks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMarry<\/em>,\u201d Mother reiterated, as if she\nwere about to spell the word. \u201cYou\u2019re nineteen. Plenty old enough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza stifled a\nsnort. She\u2019d marry Mr. Cray, with his oily black hair, overlong mustache, and\nunsavory habits when his cattle sang in the church choir. \u201cHe gambles, Mother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe can afford to.\nHe has the touch of Midas with livestock.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd I do not.\u201d\nFather sighed and stared out the window at the dark street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza\u2019s mouth\nfilled with fearful questions, cold and metallic as coins on her tongue.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe cattle are\ndiseased.\u201d Mother massaged her temples. \u201cYour father bred good stock with feral\ncows to produce some new kind of Longhorn. But he failed. The drought hasn\u2019t\nhelped, either. We must sell the ranch to keep the house here in town.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza touched\nFather\u2019s arm, willing him to look at her. \u201cIt\u2019s not so bad, is it, Father?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shrugged, but\nwhether his action bespoke apology or resignation, she couldn\u2019t tell. The thick\nsilver sideburns curving down his lean cheeks couldn\u2019t hide the clenched set of\nhis jaw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mother stifled a\nsob. \u201cWe\u2019ll have to let Marta Fleischer go from the kitchen.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t. Her pa\njust died. Her brothers are struggling with their farm. The Fleischers need the\nmoney.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo do we. If it\nmatters so much, then wed Mr. Cray and you can hire all of Marta\u2019s kin.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

No need to go that<\/em> far. \u201cI\u2019ll pitch in to make up the\nshortfall with my earnings from the Texas\nStar<\/em>. Mr. LeShand, my editor, said my advertisements bring customers to the\nclients, and\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMoney isn\u2019t short.\nIt\u2019s gone<\/em>.\u201d Mother sniffed. \u201cWe don\u2019t\nneed pitiful contributions from your embarrassing hobby. We need you wed to\nsomeone who can support us and your sisters.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Eliza shut her eyes. Honor thy mother and father<\/em>. But\nLord, how can a marriage lacking love and respect be your will?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll be leaving\nschool at Christmas, when tuition runs out. But I\u2019ll not have it known that you\nleft mid-year over money<\/em>. For\nappearances\u2019 sake, you\u2019ll move home to prepare for your wedding. A wedding,\u201d\nMother said, \u201cthat will save our family<\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza allowed the\ncarriage\u2019s motion to slump her against the squabs. The closed-up odors of\nleather and Mother\u2019s violet perfume brought little comfort, for she preferred\nthe book-and-ink smell of Austen Abbey, which was so much more than a school to\nher\u2014it was a haven, full of friends and gaiety. And the ranch, her family\u2019s\nlivelihood and lifeblood, had always been more of a home than the house in\ntown. Vast and grassy and clear, it was the one place she could run and think.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She always knew\nshe\u2019d have to leave school and the ranch behind someday. But never like this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe should return\nhome.\u201d Her voice sounded flat in her ears. \u201cThe gala tickets are dear in\nprice\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOur donation to\nthe hospital fund was made weeks ago. Besides, tonight is an investment in our\nfuture. Where else can you flirt with the wealthiest men in Austin?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whatever that\nmeant. Austen Abbey didn\u2019t offer courses in flirtation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI thought you\nselected Mr. Cray for me.\u201d At once, Eliza regretted her sarcastic tone, but her\nmother\u2019s words both confused and vexed her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI prefer him, but\nif you find someone more to your liking, fine, so long as he\u2019s wealthy.\nRemember to smile, and use that gown to advantage.\u201d Mother plumped the pink and\ncream satin roses sewn onto Eliza\u2019s left shoulder seam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When she donned the\ngown earlier, twirling for her reflection in her bedroom at school, she\u2019d felt\nlike a princess. Her roommate, Jeanie Hale, said the mist-green silk\ncomplemented Eliza\u2019s dark hair and blue eyes. We\u2019ll be the prettiest girls at my parents\u2019 gala<\/em>, Jeanie had said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now the gown felt\nheavy, the bustle too large and the roses an extravagant, foolish frippery. Her\nfairy-tale dress was nothing but a lure to catch a deep-pocketed bachelor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gravel crunching\nunder the wheels, the carriage slowed to a halt. A twinge twisted in Eliza\u2019s\nchest as she peered out the window. She\u2019d always loved the Hales\u2019 home, a blue\npainted lady with a deep porch. Tonight, laughter and light spilled out its\nsquare windows onto the well-manicured yard and into the street, but Eliza didn\u2019t\nfeel like joining in the revelry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How could she act\nas Mother expected when her heart was breaking?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With a groan like\na bullfrog\u2019s, the carriage door opened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFix your glove,\nEliza. You\u2019ve work to do. And if a marriage for money\u2019s sake offends you, try\nto fall in love tonight. With someone rich, of course.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Fall in\nlove<\/em>, indeed. She\u2019d never fallen into anything in her life. Not mud\npuddles, not a gopher hole, and certainly not love. And she didn\u2019t expect to\nstart now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza yanked the glove\nto her elbow and followed her parents into the house. There was only one person\nshe wished to see tonight, and it wasn\u2019t Mr. Cray. Her gaze scanned the crowd\nfor silvery-blond hair and a pink dress. Ah, Jeanie chatted across the dining\nroom. Eliza hastened toward her\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smack into a solid\nwall of man, all dark wool and spicy aftershave. Firm arms captured her in a\nsteadying hold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMiss? Are you\nhurt?\u201d His voice, honey-thick with a southern drawl, drew her gaze upward. The\ngentleman scrutinized her with concerned eyes the shade of fresh-turned earth,\na touch darker than the hair curling over his collar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot at all.\nI\u2019m\u2026fine.\u201d Gazing up at him, she forgot whether she was in the process of\ninhaling or exhaling. How ridiculous, gasping like a moon-eyed miss as shivers\ntraversed her arms. No doubt she was addled by the collision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her gaze fell to\nthe empty cup in his hand and the damp spots speckling his sleeve. \u201cI cannot\nsay the same for your punch. Forgive me, sir.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She tugged a\nhandkerchief from her bag and blotted the damp spots on his forearm,\naccidentally whacking his abdomen in the process. At his wince, her hand\nlowered. He must think her a dolt. Or worse, forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe Mama was\nright about her after all. But then he smiled\u2014a look that was polite, if not\nwarm. A good-bye, then. \u201cPleasant evening to you, then.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He turned but\ncouldn\u2019t step away, not with Jeanie and her mother closing in on him, Eliza\u2019s\nmother at their heels. Considering the dark-haired gentleman was under thirty\nand had sufficient funds to attend tonight\u2019s gala, Mother must have deemed him\nworthy quarry for the Marriage Hunt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cMr. Delacourt.\u201d Mrs. Hale\u2019s plump cheeks\nframed her warm smile. \u201cI see you\u2019ve encountered our Miss Branch.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At Mrs. Hale\u2019s\nintroductions\u2014William<\/em>, Jeanie mouthed\nat Eliza and blinked her eyes, as if prepared to tease her later with his\nChristian name\u2014Mr. Delacourt bowed over their hands in turn, unsmiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMr. Delacourt\nvisits from Memphis.\u201d Mrs. Hale gave Eliza a knowing look. Unmarried<\/em>, it said.  \u201cHe\u2019s\nthe owner of the Tennessee-North-Texas rail line, which will be connected to\nAustin within the year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mother\u2019s eyes lit\nlike a match strike. \u201cOwner, you say? Why, Eliza has never traveled by train.\nPerhaps she\u2019ll have her first journey on yours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMother, I don\u2019t\nthink\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cActually, the\nline\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The strains of\nviolins and enthusiastic murmuring sounded from the parlor. Mrs. Hale clapped.\n\u201cYou will dance, won\u2019t you, Mr. Delacourt? Jeanie is promised for the first\nset, but Eliza is a skilled dancer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mother made a\nsound similar to a purr.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza\u2019s stomach\nsquelched. After such a request from their hostess, William Delacourt couldn\u2019t\nrefuse. Neither could she. But to her surprise, Eliza realized she must not\nmind too much, since her foot tapped to the music\u2019s beat. She smiled up at Mr.\nDelacourt, ready to take his arm the moment he offered it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His gaze skipped\nover Eliza and flicked to his hostess.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid I must\nbeg off. A thousand pardons, ma\u2019am. Miss Branch.\u201d He dipped his head in a curt\nnod and turned on his heel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Explanations for\nhis behavior knocked about Eliza\u2019s brain like moths against a window pane.\nPerhaps he was spoken for, or had an objection to dancing. But all he had to do\nwas say so. There was no need for him to embarrass them both by refusing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs. Hale pinked.\nJeanie\u2019s lips parted. Mother\u2019s ample bosom heaved. \u201cWell, I never!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut it seems that\nI have, thanks to William Delacourt.\u201d He might be powerful and wealthy enough\nto own a railroad, but he was a rudesby, plain and simple. And utterly beneath\nher notice from now on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza\u2019s chin\ntilted up. \u201cGo dance, Jeanie. Then you must tell me all about your partner.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you certain?\nI could sit with you, if you need me.\u201d What a dear Jeanie was. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPah. I\u2019m fine.\u201d A\nlie if one had ever passed her lips. But one of them should have fun at the\ngala, at least.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fall in love<\/em>, indeed. Tonight, the only thing Eliza\nhad staggered into was the prospect of losing her home. And rejection, with its\nshameful sting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n

A fresh throb of\npain spread through Will\u2019s lungs and around his back. Were there no available\nchairs in this house? Merely breathing was difficult since his accident yesterday,\nbut his injury was downright excruciating when touched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Which Eliza Branch\nhad done. Twice. Perhaps on purpose, just to get his attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even a schemer\ndeserved more courtesy than he\u2019d shown, however. He hated the hurt he\u2019d brought\nto her bluebonnet eyes by refusing to dance. But he could hardly speak, much\nless tap his feet, after she\u2019d knocked into his battered ribcage. He might\nhumiliate himself by passing out if he didn\u2019t sit down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Halfway down the\nhall, a florid-faced fellow hailed him. Recognizing him as a local politician,\nWill forced a smile and prayed it didn\u2019t look too strained. God, help me get through this night.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, it\u2019s official\nnow.\u201d The politician\u2019s white brows lifted. \u201cThe nation\u2019s about to be divvied up\ninto time zones next month, thanks to you railroad folks, Delacourt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThree hundred\ntime zones is a bit much for one country, even one so grand as ours.\u201d Will\njoked, trying not to grit his teeth from pain. \u201cLife will be easier for\neveryone, not just for the railroads.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A pale green swirl\ncaught his eye. Miss Branch swished past, accompanied by a stout gentleman with\ngreasy black hair and a limp mustache. She didn\u2019t meet Will\u2019s eyes, but the\ntilt of her chin and pursed lips attested to her displeasure. Later, he\u2019d\napologize for his brusqueness. But she had replaced him with another dance\npartner just fine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome meet\nSanders.\u201d The politician beckoned him into an oak-paneled library. \u201cHe\u2019s\ninterested in expanding his market north.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe\nTennessee-North-Texas might be the perfect vehicle for him, then.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ah, thank heaven.\nAn empty chair, plush with crimson velvet padding, awaited Will\u2019s aching bones.\nFar easier to expound on the benefits of his rail line from a restful position,\npropped against a pillow and in no danger of anyone knocking his ribcage. He\nshould have remained in the hotel, perhaps, but that would defeat the purpose\nof coming to Austin. At least discussing the railroad distracted him. By the\ntime they finished their discussion, the pain in his ribs eased enough for him\nto venture from the library. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It wasn\u2019t\ndifficult to spot the freckled face Will sought. \u201cConvincing folks to utilize\nthe rail line, Charlie, or were you dancing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBoth.\u201d Charlie\nBingham\u2019s face flushed a ruddy hue, a stark contrast to his carroty hair. \u201cI\ndanced with the hosts\u2019 pretty daughter, Miss Jeanie. See her there, in the\npink?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI do.\u201d She was\narm in arm with Miss Branch, whispering through their frowns. Discussing his\nrudeness, no doubt. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou aren\u2019t even\nlooking at her. You\u2019re watching her friend in green. Do not say Will Delacourt\nfancies a girl at last.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u201cWatch your tongue, or I\u2019ll remove you from\nthe line\u2019s board of directors,\u201d Will teased. \u201cThe girl in green, Miss Branch,\nappears to be a fortune hunter. Her tactic was to bump into me, spill my drink,\nand wipe the punch off my coat. Sound familiar?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Charlie tapped his\ntemple in an exaggerated display. \u201cThat lawyer\u2019s daughter in Nashville. Not\nquite as imaginative as when the female \u2018fainted\u2019 in your arms in Arkansas. But\nMiss Branch might not have been devious in her intentions, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerhaps, although\nsuch a tactic was employed with perfection by my stepmother. And Miss Branch\u2019s\nmother literally licked her lips once she learned I own a railroad.\u201d Like a dog\neyeing a pork chop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shame warmed under\nhis collar. A poor comparison. But enough ladies had tried similar schemes once\nthey learned he was rich that his stomach soured to female company. He\u2019d no\npatience for it, with his throbbing chest and back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSome of us\nwouldn\u2019t mind being appraised with such admiration.\u201d From the direction of his\ngaze, it was clear from whom Charlie desired such an assessment. Jeanie Hale\u2019s\neyes lifted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Miss Branch\u2019s gaze\ndid, too, meeting his square. Were her eyes really the color of bluebonnets or\nhad he imagined it? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019d find out when\nhe apologized. But then he\u2019d walk away from her. He\u2019d not fall into a trap, no\nmatter how fetching the bait.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps Charlie\nneeded the reminder, too. He gave his friend a gentle nudge with his elbow.\n\u201cWe\u2019re in Austin to promote the TNT, not court ladies. The enterprise will fail\nif nobody ships goods on our line.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Charlie spared him\nthe briefest of glances. \u201cYou\u2019re not going to attract merchants if you look\nlike you\u2019re about to eat them along with the canap\u00e9s. Your scowl could scare\nsmall children.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He forced his gaze\naway from Miss Branch. \u201cMy ribs ache. The doctor said they\u2019re not broken, but\nstill.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou should\u2019ve\nsaid so.\u201d Charlie\u2019s brows lowered over his light eyes, his attention free from\nJeanie Hale at last.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd admit I hurt\nmyself falling from a horse? My father\u2019d take a riding crop to me if he heard.\nDelacourts breed thoroughbreds. They don\u2019t fall off them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour secret is\nsafe with me. I\u2019ll say naught to your father other than to boast of our success\nwith the TNT.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A smile pulled at\nWill\u2019s lips. \u201cHe\u2019d be shocked to hear I\u2019ve succeeded in anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019d best prepare\nhimself, then. But you\u2019re paler than milk. Let\u2019s get you to the hotel.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A guest spun into\nWill, sending a fresh shaft of agony through his ribs. His next breath almost\ncleaved him in two. He could apologize to Miss Branch later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFine. But\ntomorrow we start the next phase of our plan, sore ribs or not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n

The grandfather\nclock in the downstairs entry pealed twice, piercing the silence blanketing\nAusten Abbey. Eliza could just make out the white pouf of Jeanie\u2019s bed cap in\nthe darkness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat a dismal\nnight for you,\u201d Jeanie whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe combination\nof my parents\u2019 news, Mr. Delacourt\u2019s snub, and the advances of Mr. Cray did not\nmake for a pleasant evening. At least you had fun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve something\nto give thanks for, too. You only had to dance once<\/em> with Mr. Cray.\u201d Jeanie\u2019s quiet giggle subsided. \u201cOh, Eliza. I\ncannot survive without you. Perhaps Daddy could pay your tuition.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How sweet. \u201cThank\nyou, but my parents would never accept it. Still, I\u2019d like to graduate before I\nseek employment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSpeak to Mrs.\nCollins in the morning. She\u2019s a fair headmistress. Perhaps she\u2019ll have an\nidea.\u201d Jeanie\u2019s voice sounded weary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s late. Go to\nsleep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTomorrow,\u201d Jeanie\npromised. \u201cWe\u2019ll do something about it then.\u201d She rolled toward the wall.\nWithin moments, the soft sounds of her deep, even breathing stirred the\nsilence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An envious twinge\npricked Eliza\u2019s chest. After so topsy-turvy a night, sleep hovered over her\nlike a cloud, too flimsy and distant to grasp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lord, I know I should obey my parents. But if I can\nconvince them there is another way, would that change anything? Will you show\nme how?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza shoved back\nher coverlet and donned her room-cold wrapper and yarn slippers. God had<\/em> given her a tool to survive this\nmess. Perhaps she should use it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She withdrew a\npencil and scrap of paper from her desk, and in the silver moonlight streaming\nthrough the window, she began to write.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dear Mr. Editor….<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n