The Indiscreet Letter by Eleanor Hallowell Abbott


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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Indiscreet Letter, by Eleanor Hallowell

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at

Title: The Indiscreet Letter

Author: Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

Release Date: April 29, 2005 [eBook #15728]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


E-text prepared by Robert Shimmin and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team




Author of _Molly Make Believe_, _The Sick-A-Bed Lady_, etc., etc.

New York
The Century Co.



The Railroad Journey was very long and slow. The Traveling Salesman
was rather short and quick. And the Young Electrician who lolled
across the car aisle was neither one length nor another, but most
inordinately flexible, like a suit of chain armor.

More than being short and quick, the Traveling Salesman was distinctly
fat and unmistakably dressy in an ostentatiously new and pure-looking
buff-colored suit, and across the top of the shiny black sample-case
that spanned his knees he sorted and re-sorted with infinite
earnestness a large and varied consignment of "Ladies' Pink and Blue
Ribbed Undervests." Surely no other man in the whole southward-bound
Canadian train could have been at once so ingenuous and so nonchalant.

There was nothing dressy, however, about the Young Electrician. From
his huge cowhide boots to the lead smouch that ran from his rough,
square chin to the very edge of his astonishingly blond curls, he was
one delicious mess of toil and old clothes and smiling, blue-eyed
indifference. And every time that he shrugged his shoulders or crossed
his knees he jingled and jangled incongruously among his coil-boxes
and insulators, like some splendid young Viking of old, half blacked
up for a modern minstrel show.

More than being absurdly blond and absurdly messy, the Young
Electrician had one of those extraordinarily sweet, extraordinarily
vital, strangely mysterious, utterly unexplainable masculine faces
that fill your senses with an odd, impersonal disquietude, an itching
unrest, like the hazy, teasing reminder of some previous existence in
a prehistoric cave, or, more tormenting still, with the tingling,
psychic prophecy of some amazing emotional experience yet to come. The
sort of face, in fact, that almost inevitably flares up into a woman's
startled vision at the one crucial moment in her life when she is not
supposed to be considering alien features.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Wed 3rd Jun 2020, 4:02