Seriously, dear,
I quite tremble when he looks me full in the eyes with those
unfathomable orbs of his, which I have already vainly attempted to
describe to you. How dreadful if we have the power to make one
fall in love! Do you know if the Blavatsky crowd have that power--
outside of Sepoy?
July 1
The strangest thing! Last evening while Auntie was attending one
of the hotel hops (I hate them) Dr. Barritz called. It was
scandalously late--I actually believe he had talked with Auntie in
the ballroom, and learned from her that I was alone. I had been
all the evening contriving how to worm out of him the truth about
his connection with the Thugs in Sepoy, and all of that black
business, but the moment he fixed his eyes on me (for I admitted
him, I'm ashamed to say) I was helpless, I trembled, I blushed, I--
O Irene, Irene, I love the man beyond expression, and you know how
it is yourself!
Fancy! I, an ugly duckling from Redhorse--daughter (they say) of
old Calamity Jim--certainly his heiress, with no living relation
but an absurd old aunt, who spoils me a thousand and fifty ways--
absolutely destitute of everything but a million dollars and a hope
in Paris--I daring to love a god like him! My dear, if I had you
here, I could tear your hair out with mortification.
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