June 15th, 1888
Mr. Whitledge,
You're a bastard. Truly, you are.

I took the step to apologize even though that night still hurts me more than you'll likely ever know and yet you can't even give me the benefit of the doubt. Things were said, awful things I regret and feel awful for. But if I remember correctly, you were the one to initiate any of it. Who in their right mind gives a girl of my stature four shots of firewhiskey when it is plain as day they've likely never even had so much as a beer before! That's on you Mr. Whitledge.

And if your feelings are hurt by what I said, though you say it's not true, perhaps you need to really think hard about it. Really hard. Because if what I said was certainly not true, why are you holding it against me?

Enjoy your life, Mr. Whitledge.
Sincerely,
E. Woodcroft