I will write to him to-night if you like; so that he can write to you and make an appointment." "Do.

Ah, Marian, instinct is better and truer than intellect.

I have been for two years trying to believe all kinds of evil of you; and yet I knew all the time that you were an angel." Marian laughed.

"I suppose that under our good understanding I must let you say pretty things to me.

You must write me a sonnet before your enthusiasm evaporates.