. . . It Seemed To Me

If Mr. Thornton Was A Fool In The Morning, As He Assured Himself At Least Twenty Times He Was, He Did Not Grow Much Wiser In That Afternoon. All That He Gained In Return For His Sixpenny Omnibus Ride, Was A More Vivid Conviction That There Never Was, Never Could Be, Any One Like Margaret; That She Did Not Love Him And Never Would; But That She — No! Nor The Whole World — Should Never Hinder Him From Loving Her.

Oh, My Margaret--my Margaret! No One Can Tell What You Are To Me! Dead--cold As You Lie There You Are The Only Woman I Ever Loved! Oh, Margaret--margaret!

It Seemed As Though He Gave Way All At Once; He Was So Languid That He Could Not Control His Thoughts; They Would Wander To Her; They Would Bring Back The Scene,- Not Of His Repulse And Rejection The Day Before But The Looks, The Actions Of The Day Before That. He Went Along The Crowded Streets Mechanically, Winding In And Out Among The People, But Never Seeing Them, -almost Sick With Longing For That One Half-hour-that One Brief Space Of Time When She Clung To Him, And Her Heart Beat Against His-to Come Once Again.

A Solitary Life Cherishes Mere Fancies Until They Become Manias.

I Value My Own Independence So Highly That I Can Fancy No Degradation Greater Than That Of Having Another Man Perpetually Directing And Advising And Lecturing Me, Or Even Planning Too Closely In Any Way About My Actions. He Might Be The Wisest Of Men, Or The Most Powerful - I Should Equally Rebel And Resent His Interference.