lips, but too good a gentleman intentionally to betray such anxiety. Vanity was also in the impulse. A vulgar newspaper prominence had been my final (and very genuine) tribulation; but to please and to interest one so pleasing and so interesting to me, was another and a subtler thing. And then there was his sympathy - shall I add his admiration? - for my reward.
I do not pretend that I argued thus deliberately in my heated and excited brain. I merely hold that all these small reasons and motives
said he. “Keep up your courage and your heart.”
“My heart!” I cried. “It’s at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.”
He was the first to whom I had said as much. He was a stranger. What did it matter? And, oh, it was so true - so true.
Every day and all day I was thinking of my love; every hour and all