"I believe not. But what are you about there? You were writing." I?" Your fingers are stained with ink." Ah, true, I was writing. I do sometimes, sold...er though I am."Monte Cristo advanced into the room; Maximilian was obliged to let him pass, but he followed him. "You were writing?" said Monte Cristo with a searching look."I have already had the honor of telling you I was," said Morrel.The count looked around him. "Your pistols are beside your desk," said Monte Cristo, pointing with his finger. I felt a closeness toher I hadn't known before.Oh, if only I had realized the true depth of her needs. But I didn't have towait long to learn.I never said anything to her about my discovery; I felt it would bereopening painful wounds that obviously still weren't healed. But I did goto her in late July of that summer to ask her about my growth.When she had turned into a six-year-old, I was-feet, -- inches tall, andweighed-pounds, about average for a girl my age. Four years later, I hadonly. More

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