Slide,--the man who wanted to sit for Loughton. He is
the editor. He brought me a long letter from Mr. Kennedy
himself, intended for publication, and which was already
printed, giving an elaborate and, I may say, a most
cruelly untrue account of your quarrel. I read the letter,
but of course cannot remember the words. Nor if I could
remember them should I repeat them. They contained all the
old charges with which you are familiar, and which your
unfortunate husband now desired to publish in consummation
of his threats. Why Mr. Slide should have brought me the
paper before publishing it I can hardly understand. But he
did so;--and told me that Mr. Kennedy was in town. We have
managed among us to obtain a legal warrant for preventing
the publication of the letter, and I think I may say that
it will not see the light.
When Mr. Slide left me I called on Mr. Kennedy, whom I
found in a miserable little hotel, in Judd Street, kept
by Scotch people named Macpherson.
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