"STRELSA LEEDS." He wrote her by return mail: "MY DEAR MRS. LEEDS, "When a man has made up his mind to drown without any more fuss, it hurts him to be hauled out and resuscitated and told that he is still alive. "If you mean, ultimately, to let me drown, do it now. I've been too miserable over you. Also, I was insulting to Sir Charles. He's too decent to have told you; but I was. And I can't ask his pardon except by mending my manner toward him in future. "I'm a nobody; I haven't any money; and I love you. That is how the matter stands this day in May. Let me know the worst and I'll drown this time for good and all. "Are you engaged to marry Sir Charles? "R. S. QUARREN." By return mail came a note from her: "Can you not care for me and still be kind to me, Mr. Quarren? If what you say about your regard for me is true--but it is certainly exaggerated, anyway--should not your attitude toward me include a nobler sentiment? I mean friendship. And I know whereof I speak, because I am conscious of a capacity for it--a desire for it--and for you as the object of it. I believe that, if you cared for it, I could give you the very best of me in a friendship of the highest type. "It is in me to give it--a pure, devoted, lofty, untroubled friendship, absolutely free of lesser and material sentiments. Am I sufficiently frank? I want such a friendship. I need it. I have never before offered it to any man--the kind I mean to give you if you wish. "I believe it would satisfy you; I am convinced that yours would satisfy me. You don't know how I have missed such a friendship in you. I have wanted it from the very beginning of our acquaintance. But I had--problems--to solve, first; and I had to let our friendship lie dormant. Now I have solved my perplexities, and all my leisure is for you again, if you will. Do you want it? "Think over what I have written. Keep my letter for a week and then write me. Does my offer not deserve a week's consideration? "Meanwhile please keep away from deep water. I do not wish you to drown. "STRELSA LEEDS. "P. S.--Lord Dankmere is here. He is insufferable. He told Mrs. Sprowl that you and he were going into the antique-picture business. You wouldn't think of going into anything whatever with a man of that sort, would you? Or was it merely a British jest?" He wrote at once: "I have your letter and will keep it a week before replying. But--are you engaged?" She answered: