You lay upon the sofa, and I sat down beside you, and smoothed your hair.

I was nearer to loving you then than I ever was before; but you put me off, and the impulse did not come again--that is, the impulse of confession.

A little more consideration on your part for what you call my airs and high notions would have won me to you, for I am not insensible to your many sterling virtues, and I do believe that you did love me once.

But all that is over now.

I made a great mistake when I came to you, and perhaps I am making a greater one in going from you.