We will now go once again to George Vavasor's room in Cecil Street, in which he received Alice's letter. He was dressing when it was first brought to him; and when he recognised the handwriting he put it down on his toilet table unopened. He put it down, and went on brushing his hair, as though he were determined to prove to himself that he was indifferent as to the tidings which it might contain. He went on brushing his hair, and cleaning his teeth, and tying his cravat carefully over his turned-down collar, while the unopened letter lay close to his hand. Of course he was thinking of it,--of course he was anxious,--of course his eye went to it from moment to moment. But he carried it with him into the sitting-room still unopened, and so it remained until after the girl had brought him his tea and his toast. "And now," said he, as he threw himself into his arm-chair, "let us see what the girl of my heart says to me." The girl of his heart said to him as follows:--
MY DEAR GEORGE,

We will now return to George Vavasor's room in Cecil Street, where he received Alice's letter. He was dressing when it was brought to him; and he put it down, and went on brushing his hair, as though to prove to himself that he was indifferent about its contents. He cleaned his teeth, and tied his cravat carefully, while the unopened letter lay close by. His eye went to it from time to time; but he carried it with him into the sitting-room still unopened. After the girl had brought him his breakfast, he opened it, and read:
My dear George,
