"Yes, as in the old days." "Well, I have often regretted that I did not accept you as an experiment." Then I knew that she did not understand.
"You must not think I am jesting," said I, seriously.

"The story is of the bitter-sweet kind.

The heroine loves me, but cannot be mine." "Loves you ?" with a slight start.

"How do you know ?" "She has told me so," lowering my voice.
Frankness of this sort to a woman who has rejected you has a peculiar effect.

The coquetry faded from her smile, and there was a perceptible contraction of the brows.