Several sheets of blank paper were scattered over it. One of
them contained almost a page of writing. Yorick had negligently left it
there. It was a beginning made by him before he had succeeded in obtaining
a satisfactory wording for his thoughts. This rejected opening read:
"My DEAR, FOOLISH YOUNG LADY:--Something has happened which prevents Mr.
Bridges from keeping the appointment with you, and you're much better off
on that account, for nothing but unhappiness can come to you if you allow
yourself to be carried out of your senses by your infatuation for a man
who has neither the brains nor the manliness which he seems to have when
playing parts that call for the mere simulation of these gifts. Never make
an appointment with a man you do not know, especially a young and vain
actor who has once got the worst of it in a divorce suit. You'll be
thankful some day for this advice, for I know what I speak of. I was once,
years ago, just such an actor. The woman got into all sorts of trouble
because she wrote me such letters as you have written Bridges, and brought
to an early end a life that might have been very happy and youthful.
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