I am haunted here to-night, even, as I sit by your side.

I move through life a condemned man.

I know it for I have proved it.
Before very long the man whom you know, who sits by your side at this moment, who is your slave, dear, must pass." "You can never altogether change," she murmured.
His hands clasped the small silver box in his pocket.
"In a few months," he said hoarsely, "unless we can find the missing plant, I shall be again the common little clerk who came and peered over your hedge at you in the summer." She smiled a little incredulously.
"Even when you tell me so," she insisted, "I cannot believe it." He drew his chair closer to hers.

He looked around him nervously, the horror was in his eyes.
"Since I saw you last," he continued, "I have been very nearly like it.
I couldn't travel alone, I bought silly comic papers, I played nap with young men who talked of nothing but their 'shop' and their young ladies.
I have been to a public-house, drunk beer, and shaken hands with the barmaid.

I was even disappointed when one of them--a creature with false hair, a loud, rasping voice and painted lips--was not there.