“When I close my eyes I can still feel your soft arms about my neck and your kisses upon my lips. I can’t wait much longer for you, darling. Something must be done. I just can’t stand it. I’ve got to see you before Easter. It’s no use to say I can’t, because I’m going to—somehow. So don’t be surprised at anything. Leslie Manor is not so many miles away and ways and means can be contrived in spite of all the old maid guardians that ever lived. Wonder if the old lady knows how it feels to have a man kiss her? I bet she don’t! I’ve never seen your Suffragette queen, but I don’t need to after all you’ve told me about her. She must be a cuckoo.
“So keep your weather eye piped, sweetness and leave the rest to your
Adoring ‘Boy’”
By the time the Empress reached the last word of that missive her face had assumed the color of a gobbler’s wattles, and her eyes were blazing. Eleanor was nearly frightened to death at the Genius of Wrath which she had invoked.
“To whom does this nauseating thing belong?”
“It was not in an envelope when I found it, Miss Woodhull.”
“Where did you find it?”
Eleanor hesitated, it would never do to seem too communicative.
“Did you understand my question?”