And might I have stayed till five?—dearest, I will never ask for more than you give—but I feel every single sand of the gold showers ... spite of what I say above! I have an invitation for Thursday which I had no intention of remembering (it admitted of such liberty)—but now....
Something I will say! 'Polka,' forsooth!—one lady whose head could not, and another whose feet could not, dance!—But I talked a little to your brother whom I like more and more: it comforts me that he is yours.
So, Thursday,—thank you from the heart! I am well, and about to go out. This week I have done nothing to 'Luria'—is it that my ring is gone? There surely is something to forgive in me—for that shameful business—or I should not feel as I do in the matter: but you did forgive me.
God bless my own, only love—ever—
Yours wholly
R.B.
N.B. An antiquarian friend of mine in old days picked up a nondescript wonder of a coin. I just remember he described it as Rhomboid in shape—cut, I fancy, out of church-plate in troubled times. What did my friend do but get ready a box, lined with velvet, and properly compartmented, to have always about him, so that the next such coin he picked up, say in Cheapside, he might at once transfer to a place of safety ... his waistcoat pocket being no happy receptacle for the same. I saw the box—and encouraged the man to keep a vigilant eye.
Parallel. R.B. having found an unicorn....
Do you forgive these strips of paper? I could not wait to send for more—having exhausted my stock.