"
He looked Mrs. Sharpe full in the face. She took the gloves--a slip of
paper was to be felt inside--a moment's demur, then she purchased and
put them in her pocket.
The peddler departed; Mrs. Sharpe went upstairs, and drew forth the
slip of paper. There were but three lines:
"Meet me this afternoon at two. I will be waiting in the woods near the
shore, where you saw my boat yesterday. I know he was with you last
night."
Mrs. Sharpe read this, destroyed it, and sat ruminating.
"What if they won't let me go? But no, they wouldn't dare keep me a
prisoner, and if it came to fisticuffs," smiling to herself, "I could
beat the three of them--poor old bodies! I'll go by strategy, if
possible--by main force, if necessary. But I'll go."
Five minutes longer the nurse sat thinking. Then she arose, walked
down-stairs, and complained drearily of a shocking bad headache.
Mrs. Oleander recommended a woman's cure--a cup of strong tea and going
to bed. But Susan Sharpe shook her head.
"Tea never does me no good, and going to bed only makes me worse.
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