Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. I decided to go in and wait. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. They went down the great staircase of the building, and, while she sought in her mind for a beginning, he broke into appreciation of her simple dress and selfcongratulations upon their engagement. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. “What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things.
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