The angel with the auburn ringlets is as much an angel as ever; but, Lauderdale, upon my soul, I don't want to do anything wrong, if I can help it.

If it is _kismit_, as the Turks say, my fate, what can I do?
What will be, will be; if auburn ringlets and yellow-brown eyes are my destiny, what am I--the descendant of many Stanfords--that I should resist?
Nevertheless, if destiny minds its own business and lets me alone, I'll come up to the mark like a man.

Kate is glorious; I always knew it, but never so much as now.
Something has happened recently--no matter what--that has elevated her higher than ever in my estimation.

There is something grand about the girl--something too great and noble in that high-strung nature of hers, for such a reprobate as I! This is _entre nous_, though; if I tell you I am a reprobate, it is in confidence.

I am a lucky fellow, am I not, to have two of earth's angels to choose from?
And yet sometimes I wish I were not so lucky; I don't want to misbehave--I don't want to break anybody's heart; but still--" It came to an end as abruptly as it had begun.