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"I have had a letter from your friend," she remarked, as she poured a
little cream into Edna's cup and handed it to her
"My friend?"
"Yes, your friend Robert He wrote to me from the City of Mexico"
"Wrote to YOU?" repeated Edna in a her coffee
absently
"Yes, to me Why not? Don't stir all the warht as well have been sent to you; it was
nothing but Mrs Pontellier fro woly
"No; a letter concerns no one but the person rites it and the one
to whom it is written"
"Haven't you just said it concernedto end?"
"It ritten about you, not to you 'Have you seen Mrs Pontellier?
How is she looking?' he asks 'As Mrs Pontellier says,' or 'as Mrs
Pontellier once said' 'If Mrs Pontellier should call upon you, play
for her that Impromptu of Chopin's, o, but not as you play it I should like to kno it affects
her,' and so on, as if he supposed ere constantly in each other's
society"
"Let me see the letter"
"Oh, no"