FORE:Tingling from her self-inflicted penance, she went to her mother��s writing table, for she had to complete her humiliation by writing to him without delay, and expressing fully and unreservedly all that had made this last half-hour so replete with the luxury of self-reproach. But the expression{216} of it was not so easy as the perception of it had been, and she made half a dozen beginnings without satisfying herself. One began, ��Oh, Mr Silverdale, how could I?�� but then she despaired of how to proceed. Another began, ��I have honestly gone over every moment of this afternoon, and I find there is not a single point in which I am not entirely to blame,�� but that was too business-like and lacked emotion. But when she was almost in despair at these futile efforts, a brilliant idea came into her head. She would write in baby-language, which would surely touch his heart when he remembered how many serious things he and she had discussed together in this pretty jesting fashion.

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FORE: "'The rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air--'"

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