III
Anastasia Fitzapplejohn
On Monday, April 1, Mary Tomkins received the following letter:
Only that he pleads a previous promise to you, John Thomas would be my bridegroom. I have his heart, I know. And, oh! and oh! and oh! it is too true that he has mine. Be noble and make him free, and enjoy the undying friendship of
Mary sat as usual with her waist encircled by his arm, while with her left hand she held the crumpled letter. “John,” she said, “who has your heart?”
“Who but you, my poppet?”
“Anastasia Fitzapplejohn has your heart.”
“She be—oh! anything you please except married to me.”
“Where were you last night, John? Did you pass the hours you were away from here with that female?”
“But listen to me, Mary.”
“I demand to know whether you were there!”
“Wait till I tell you all about it.”
“I will hear nothing of such a one as Miss Fitzapplejohn.”
“For my sake, Mary.”
“Never, never, never, never!” she said, as her head dropped on his shoulder.