"
He took it from her, his hands trembling, and drew forth the enclosure,
a single sheet of rough yellow paper. Once he paused, glancing toward
where she sat, her face buried in her arms across the chair-back. Then
he smoothed out the wrinkles, and read slowly, studying over each
pencil-written, ill-spelled word, every crease and stain leaving an
impression upon his brain:
"SAN JUAN, COL., DEC. 12, 1904.
"Deer Miss: I see your name agin in a Denver paper what Bill brought
out frum town ternight, an read thar that you wus goin ter play a piece
in Chicago. I aint seen yer name in ther papers afore fer a long time.
So I thot I 'd write yer a line, cause Bill thinks yer never got it
straight bout ther way Biff Farnham died. He ses thet you an Mister
Winston hes got ther whol affair all mixed up, an that maybe it's a
keepin ther two of yer sorter sore on each other. Now, I dont wanter
butt in none in yer affairs, an then agin it aint overly plisent fer me
to make a clean breast ov it this way on paper.
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