“Jimmy,” she said timidly, as she held out her arms in appealing suppliance, “I’m just a—just a foolish small town kid. I didn’t understand—I didn’t understand.”
Jimmy, in a daze, took the paper which she held towards him. It was another cablegram. He smoothed it out and the peace that surpasseth understanding settled down upon him as he read these words:
HAMILTON, BERMUDA.
LOLITA MURPHY,
JOLLYLAND PARK,
CONEY ISLAND, N. Y.
WON’T IT EASE YOUR DISAPPOINTMENT
A LITTLE TO KNOW THAT THE
MAD IMPULSIVE THING I DID YESTERDAY
AND THE RASH ACT I HAVE JUST