We have had our hour, dear.

Its memory will never leave me.

I shall think of you, dream of you, when, it may be, some other girl--oh, no, I do not mean that! Philip, don't be angry with me to-day.

You are wringing my heart!" It was in Hozier's mind to scoff in no measured terms at the absurd theory that he should renounce his oft-won bride because a pair of elderly gentlemen in Bootle had made a bargain in which she was staked against so many bags of gold.

But pity for her suffering joined forces with a fine certainty that fortune would not play such a scurvy trick as to rob him of his divinity after leading him through an Inferno to the very gate of Paradise.