You are the prettiest girl in New York, one of the richest, one of the smartest--" "See here, George," she said, a hard note stealing into her voice, "you and I are pretty much alike in one respect.

Surprising as it may seem, we have been able to love some one besides ourselves.

And still more surprising, we appear to be constant.

You are no more constant in your love for Lutie than I am in my love for the man I shall never have.

My man despises me.