"
However, I do not call it being a good sport to see one's
daughter perfectly wreched and do nothing to help. And more than
that, to willfully permit one's child to suffer, and enjoy it.
But it was father, after all, who got the Jolt, I think,
when he saw me get out of the taxicab.
Therefore I will not explain, for a time. A little worry
will not hurt him either.
I will not send him his copy for a week.
Perhaps, after all, I will give him somthing to worry about
eventually. For I have recieved a box of roses, with no card,
but a pen and ink drawing of a Gentleman in evening clothes
crawling onto a fire-escape through an open window. He has
dropped his Heart, and it is two floors below.
My narative has now come to a conclusion, and I will close
with a few reflections drawin from my own sad and tradgic
Experience. I trust the Girls of this School will ponder and
reflect.
Deception is a very sad thing. It starts very easy, and
without Warning, and everything seems to be going all right, and
No Rocks ahead. When suddenly the Breakers loom up, and your
frail Vessel sinks, with you on board, and maybe your dear Ones,
dragged down with you.
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