Read "Bess of the Woods" by Warwick Deeping online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
The following morning a letter came to Richard from Hardacre, a carefully sealed epistle smelling strangely of musk. He stared at it like a spendthrift eying an unpayable bill, opened the letter as he sipped his chocolate, spread it on the tray before him, and read it grudgingly at his leisure. He was no longer moved to kiss the place where Miss Jilian's hand had rested. The sentimental infatuation had withered in a week. It had never possessed roots in the natural soil. The letter ran:
"MY DEAR RICHARD,-I was a little surprised to receive the note that informed me that you were proceeding to Tunbridge Wells for your health. Was it shame or delicacy of feeling that prevented you from taking leave of me in person? You must remember how little sympathy you showed me when we first met after my illness. I am ready to pardon you, however, and shall expect more sensibility in you in the future.